


Life's a Show

by HollyDB, Kimmie_Winchester



Series: The Disco Chronicles [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Saved By the Bell (TV), The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Dark Crack, Dark Magic, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Kidnapping, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Soullessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 18:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 270,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyDB/pseuds/HollyDB, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmie_Winchester/pseuds/Kimmie_Winchester
Summary: Spike and Buffy reunite with old friends from Los Angeles; Wolfram and Hart decides that the vampire Zack Morris would be a lot more entertaining if he didn't have a soul keeping him from seeing his full potential. Meanwhile, Donna sets up Willow, who is visiting from her teaching post at Hogwarts, with Sam Seaborn. Josh is not pleased.Extremely unofficial sequel toHarbingers of Beatrice. Includes OCs from that story.This was written between 2004-2010. It has not and will not be edited; all errors are reflective of the writing style both authors used at the time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See the introductory note [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19560574/chapters/46466893).

Though it was hardly his first time inside Lilah Morgan’s office, he couldn’t help but tremble when the intern closed the door behind him. Stepping into any room inside Wolfram and Hart was akin to stepping inside uncertainty itself, which he presumed was the point as much as anything else. After all, fear wasn’t good for business—not when first scoping out new clients, anyway. Fear was always reserved for later. Later, when contracts had been signed and one’s first born was literally on the chopping block.

He’d always been fascinated with the bookshelves in Lilah’s office. She owned an assortment of works enviable to any collector. There were the expected law books, of course, as well as files on the cases she’d personally overseen. She owned volumes of Plato and Aristotle, Virgil and Socrates, and even a few translations of the Bible—Apocrypha optional. There were the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, the Gnostic Gospels, the Apocalypse of St. Peter—a theologian’s wet dream came to life on her book shelves. She owned a complete collection of Dante Alighieri in the original Italian, along with several translations. She owned volumes on theory and humanism, the history of demonology, dark arts, and texts of vampiric folklore and legend.

He wondered how many she’d actually read. The books were more than an impressive compilation; Wolfram and Hart specialized in every imaginable aspect of legality. The wall was a full-out consultation venue for each official and theological problem that potential and existing clientele could slam on the table.

Lilah Morgan’s office lacked personalization. Like Wolfram and Hart itself, the chamber was cold and sterile. There was no ‘woman’s touch’; no flowers on her desk, no pictures filled with smiling children and a loving husband, no decorative carpets or lamps, or anything that Derek Morris would associate with the word _feminine_. It was a masculine cavity of absolute fortitude, and it mirrored the firm with full perfection.

Derek didn’t particularly like _excessively female_ work spaces, especially at his own office; it always struck him as unprofessional. However, the cold that greeted him in Lilah’s office was so bleak that he found himself wishing for at least a vase, or a decorative, overly-flamboyant clock that demonstrated her femininity. There was nothing, and he’d learned to expect nothing less.

"Mr. Morris," Lilah greeted coolly, glancing up from whatever note she’d been scribbling. Her fingers laced together in a display of pure professionalism, and she inclined her head, with near imperceptivity, to the waiting seat across from her desk. "Please. Sit down."

It wasn’t an invitation, or even a request. More a command. Over the years, Derek had come to realize that Lilah was easily one of the scariest people he’d ever known. The power and knowledge she wielded in her eyes alone was enough to make a grown man cry. He’d never considered himself anything but a pillar of strength, but all that self-confidence evaporated the minute Lilah Morgan had him under her stare.

She cleared her throat impatiently. Derek shifted uncomfortably, belatedly realizing that he was still standing. He rushed to the proffered chair and plopped down, only afterward berating himself for showing such an obvious sign of weakness. A woman like Lilah Morgan would gobble that up.

"You know what this is about," she said.

There was no sense playing it coy. It would only anger her, and possibly get him into deeper trouble. One never knew with Wolfram and Hart. "My debt."

"The dates we agreed to in your contract are fast approaching, Mr. Morris."

"I haven’t had enough time."

Lilah’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve had nearly forty years. How much additional time would you suggest we grant you?"

"There were mitigating circumstances," he protested weakly, the excuse sounding bogus, even to him. Even when he knew the truth behind it. "You said it needed to be pure. I’ve tried. I’ve tried every damn time. What do you suggest? My son can’t even have children now. Your vampire saw to that."

"Spike is hardly our vampire, which is partly the issue. Even so, we are not interested in Zack Morris," Lilah returned. "And I believe, as you know, that was never part of the deal. He was your second choice. There is always the other."

"He’s already had kids. And you screwed that one up. If it weren’t for your blunder—"

Her eyes slanted at that, cold and unforgiving. "Our assistance in repaying your debt was not a part of the contract. We offered you help when you asked for it, and even let you off without demanding quid pro quo. Darla did what she does best; we had no way of anticipating how infatuated she would become with Wright, nor did we have an obligation to make sure her role was played successfully. This has always been your responsibility, and you’ve managed to fumble it every single time. The Senior Partners grow restless. They’d hate to think, after such a long, friendly, business arrangement that you’d try to stiff them at the eleventh hour."

"I would never presume—"

"You know the penalties for failing to adhere to a Wolfram and Hart contractual agreement." She spoke with calm authority, her tone indicating an absolute lack of faith that Derek Morris knew anything. "We will be forced to refer to the penal clause in the aforementioned contract if our initial arrangement has not been satisfied within ninety days."

The penalty phase. He could only imagine. It would be nothing short of his life, and even then, he’d be lucky if that was all they demanded of him. He hadn’t perused the contract in a good thirty-five years; there had been no need. When he signed the contract, he’d known what he needed to do to repay his debt, and he’d so damnably sure that he’d have enough time. Failure had not been a possibility. An option. He’d never even considered it.

Not for the first ten years or so. When that whore became pregnant with his first son, he thought he was in the clear. Wrong. The little brat was born, and he couldn’t have been more useless. Then Melody became pregnant, and Derek couldn’t touch his wife’s son; there was no way he would sacrifice his first legitimate child to the Powers. He hadn’t planned on Zack being his only son by his wife. Then again, he hadn’t planned on botching the first attempt at a sacrificial offering.

"What should I do?" he asked, terrified of the answer.

"The way I see it, there are two options."

Derek perked up. Two options? He hadn’t expected her to answer at all.

"You can fuck as many women as possible and hope that your semen can still swim."

He winced. In this instance, the vulgarity in her tone made the situation seem even blacker than before. "What’s the second option?"

"We’re back to your firstborn."

Derek frowned. "Zack? He’s already had two kids. Amber’s dead. I thought—"

"You really don’t pay attention at all to your children, do you?"

"Zack isn’t _my son_ ," he snapped. "He was supposed to be a goddamn ritual killing. He and his whore mother were means to an end. I have _one_ son, and he and his tarty wife are as impure as vessels can get nowadays."

"Regardless, your firstborn has managed to impregnate yet another young lady. One whose involvement has been troublesome to our firm since she arrived in Los Angeles."

There was nothing quite like a flicker of new hope. Maybe the whore’s child wasn’t such a lost cause, after all. Another woman, another child. Well, Derek couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. After all the whining and moping, Zack had managed to find another woman to stick his dick inside. The kid was nothing if not ambitious.

"Zack got another girl pregnant?"

"Yes."

"And you’ve only now decided to tell me?"

Lilah’s eyes narrowed, and he found himself shrinking back in his seat. Regardless, it was better to remember where he was, and who he was with. His mouth had, after all been a driving factor in all the trouble he’d found himself in over the years. "Again, we’re back to the reality that keeping you up to speed was never a part of the deal. Furthermore, Wright has been living in Los Angeles for the past nine years."

"How was I supposed to—"

"Perhaps you’ve never seen these?" Lilah reached into the dark recesses of her desk, then pulled out an assortment of flyers, newspaper clippings, business cards, and even a local, however well-known magazine with two men standing back-to-back. The heading read: **W &W Investigations: Where everything’s done the Wright way at an unbeatable Pryce**. One of the men was undoubtedly his boy. He was a spitting image of his younger half-brother. Hell, had Derek not known better, he would’ve sworn the boys were twins. The other man was only vaguely familiar—perhaps from local talk shows and the like.

"W&W Investigations is the leading detective agency in Los Angeles. They’ve been climbing the social and corporate ladder ever since Zack Wright and Wesley Wyndham Pryce took over Angel Investigations nine years ago."

Derek made a face. "Did they come up with this crappy slogan?"

Lilah arched a brow. "You honestly think they’d be so successfully popular if they resorted to puns in their advertising? It’s the magazine article." She sighed as though burdened and shook her head heavily. "You know, for a shrewd businessman, you’re not very bright."

"They’re a big thing?"

She gestured to the articles on her desk. "Quite."

"And Zack’s gotten a girl pregnant."

"Not just any girl. A seer. A seer who has been a source of extreme irritation as far as the Senior Partners are concerned." Lilah titled her head to the side, studying him as though he was an insect. "So, Mr. Morris, I suggest you get your priorities in check. It’s time to collect."

"Ninety days?"

A small, malicious smile crossed her face. "Consider that a grace period. You see, we’re in something of a bind. Our oracles prophesy that the major players are moving to this one location. Your son and his wife, his sire, the immortal Slayer, and links to the Powers. Combined with your firstborn and the agency…something big is coming to Los Angeles, and Wolfram and Hart wants to be on top of it. Failure is not an option."

Derek froze. There was something utterly terrifying in the woman’s voice. Her eyes were black, uncompromising. And he knew then. He knew. There was something more to this, more than his contract, that had him in the seat in her office. In her black, sterile office.

Something big was going down. Something huge.

Wolfram and Hart was moving the pieces on the board. And he, like so many others, was just another pawn.

Another way to make it to checkmate.

*~*~*

To the average person walking by, they looked as normal as New Yorkers could get. Scattered out among three tables in the food court of LaGuardia Airport, they looked like most groups getting ready to embark on vacation. 

The first table occupied two blondes that were making the sharing of breakfast into an almost explicit act while a shaggy brown haired toddler sat across from them and smeared a piece on cinnamon roll across his face. 

The second table had a blue-eyed blonde girl munching on breakfast while staring up at a man who was mumbling at the television as bits of Egg McMuffin came sputtering back out. 

The third sat a woman feverishly sorting through a multitude of bags between sips of coffee while the man across from her continuously gave scowls of disapproval. 

"I may be sounding redundant, but do you believe it Rosie’s best interest to disrupt her education like this?" 

Kelly paused from her carry-on bag madness to run a hand through her loose hair. "Yes, you are sounding redundant." She sighed as she reached over for another sip of coffee before going back to sorting out various snacks, games and books. "You know that Rosie’s education is important to me, but I don’t feel that she was getting much of an education at Anderson Academy." 

Rosie’s attention was pulled away from Zack and CSC’s rerun of _Sports Night_ from the night before to the table where her mother and Papa were talking about her. "I don’t like it there," she felt obligated to state. 

Giles gave her a sympathetic smile before turning back to Kelly. "Most children don’t like school, but it’s necessary, especially for Rosie and William so that they can gather the skills to function in…normal society." 

"McCall is totally in the zone on that one," Zack said loudly, more to himself than his companions as he shoved half a hash brown down his throat. 

Kelly cast a wearily glance at the other two tables to check on her five children. "Zack, look at William. He’s wearing his breakfast while he watches Spike and Buffy make out over a Cinnabon." 

Zack glanced over and then grabbed some napkins to wipe off his son. "We’re not making out," Buffy vouched. "There’s not kissing involved." 

Rosie giggled as she looked to her surrogate aunt and uncle. "We can see under the table." 

Any fondling that had been going on between the coupled ceased immediately. 

Giles took the awkwardness as opportunity to return to his original point. "I just feel that this is a disservice to her, educationally and socially." 

Spike snorted from his table. "Chit’s smarter and more sociable than that whole bloody school combined." 

Kelly tossed one of the bags in a vacant chair as a sign of accomplishment. "Rosie outscored all of the children in her grade and wasn’t being given enough extra work to keep her stimulated." 

"That and they kicked her out of school," Zack added as he finally got all the sugar off William’s face. 

"Which I believe goes back to her social issues and the fact that she needs to learn that discipline comes from more than just her family." 

"She was being teased," Zack reasoned. "She did just what we wanted her to do if a boy was getting too physical, sock him in the balls." 

Before Giles could react, Kelly held up a hand. "I know that it may not seem logical, but Zack and I really have thought about this. As soon as we come back to New York, we’re going to start looking for a new school. One that is more advanced educationally as well as one that is more diverse socially." 

The Watcher nodded his consent. "It’s not that I doubt you and Zack’s ability to parent, it’s just that I…" 

"Doubt everybody’s ability to make any sort of decision whatsoever?" Buffy offered with a teasing smile. 

"No, well yes," Giles admitted as he grinned back at his former Slayer. 

Kelly looked down at her watch as she decided herself done with her bag-sorting project. "We have twenty minutes before we board and terminal 89 is right over there," she said pointing off to their left. "So, I think we’re good. Zack, where’s my Cinnabon?" 

Zack looked down on the table where he sat it and realized it was gone. Glancing over to the other table he noticed a slightly guilty look on the blonde woman’s face. "Spike and Buffy ate it." 

"Thanks guys," the brunette mumbled as she walked off to find something to eat. 

"So," Buffy said as she looked out among the remaining members of the group. "From here we get to Minneapolis, where we have a layover for two hours and then it’s on to L.A." 

"Is Xander meeting us at the airport?" Giles inquired. 

"No, he’s going to drive up and meet us at the end of the week." 

"An’ Red?" her husband asked. "Thought she was comin’ in from England this week." 

"I talked to her last night and she said that she was going to be staying in Washington a few days. Apparently she and Donna having been emailing a lot and Donna promised her an Oval Office tour if she ever came to town. So, Will is going to meet us at the end of the week when Xander comes up." 

"Are we going to Sunnydale?" Rosie had the faintest memories of the place where she was born and spent the first few dysfunctional years of her life. 

"Not if we can prevent it, honey," Zack said as he reached over to pull on one of her pigtails. "We want to try and avoid apocalypses on this trip. Maybe next time." 

"So where are we staying when we get there?" Giles asked as Kelly rejoined the group with food. 

Buffy and Kelly shrugged, causing panic to flood Giles’ eyes. "What?" 

Kelly smiled sardonically. "We left that part up to the guys. Buffy and I made all the flight and people arrangements and the guys just had to book us the rooms." 

"So," Buffy smiled as she looked over at her husband. "Where’s it gonna be? Obviously not on Rodeo Drive, but neither of you like to go shabby." 

"Its surprise," Zack commented nonchalantly as he took a drink of coffee. "You all will just have to wait and see." 

"Oh!" Kelly said glancing over at her watch. "We better get going. Our flight’s about to board!" 

As the group scrambled toward terminal 89, Zack and Spike notably lagged behind the others. "Ummm…" Zack said casting his best friend a sideways glance. 

"Yeah. I din’ book anything either." 

"We’re fucked." 

"But at least they won’ know till we get there."

*~*~*

There were times, Buffy presumed, that she and Kelly were better left in the dark on the workings of their husbands’ minds when it came to ‘striking deals’ wherever they turned. She didn’t mind when Spike and Zack attempted to haggle with the car rental woman, even though she looked rather frustrated when she couldn’t convince them that all prices had been fixed by the regional office.

However, once they were issued the keys to a blue SUV, Spike and Zack turned into the epitome of the perfect customers, and left congratulating each other on a job well done.

"You two are impossible," Kelly said, shaking her head as she fixed William into the car-seat.

"Can I sit in the front with Daddy and Uncle Spike?" Rosie asked.

"There’s no room for you up there, peach-tree," she replied in her mommy tone, inclining her head to the backseat. Rosie looked unsatisfied, but obeyed just the same. Kelly smiled and climbed into the middle seats beside Buffy, then abruptly turned to her daughter in pre-scold mode. "And don’t be picking on your brother."

Rosie’s hand dropped from where she’d been ready to poke him and pouted.

"You know he doesn’t like to be touched."

"He doesn’t like much of anything," Rosie grunted.

Buffy turned to the child with a small smile. "Yes, but William’s not old enough to play with Uncle Spike. I’m sure Uncle Spike will be very proud of you if you manage to be a good girl for your mom and dad until we get to the hotel."

The thought inspired a grin to the child’s face, and she nodded her satisfaction. She topped it off with a smug glance in William’s direction.

"It’s weird being back here," Zack observed as he slid into the driver’s seat. "Like I’ve stepped back in time before the land of vampires and demons and apocalypses. I know we were here before Will was born, but it just feels…weird."

Spike arched a brow. "‘F you think for a minute that you’re back in the land of normality, think again."

"LA’s vamp population absolutely trumps Sunnydale’s," Buffy agreed. "Which might be good, considering that I’m feeling nostalgic."

Spike grinned and turned in his seat. "Pinin’ for the days of old, Slayer?"

Her eyes flickered teasingly. "You know it."

Kelly thwapped the peroxided vampire’s shoulder and seared him with yet another patented ‘mommy’ look. "Don’t call her that," she snapped, though she was obviously less upset than she wanted to appear.

Spike scowled. "Why the bloody hell not? I’ve called her that for years."

"Yes, but the meaning has changed, and you know it."

The elder vampire glanced to his wife skeptically. "You told her that it’s a turn on?"

"I did not! Zack did. And, while I’m thinking about it…" Buffy scowled edged forward, slapping her mate’s arm. "You’ve been locker-room talking with Zack?"

"Well, yeah. He’s my boy."

"Your boy," she snorted.

"Yeah, but it’s okay," Zack offered with a shrug.

"Besides," Kelly interjected. "Buffy’s told me about the entire ‘sire/childe’ name-calling-turn-on thing." A smirk crossed her face. "Just saying."

Spike scowled. "Yeah? Well, Zangy’s told me about your fetish for bein’ called Mrs. Butterworth, so don’t go around pretendin’ anythin’ I call my wife in the bedroom is perverted."

It was funny how fast Kelly could go from moon-pale to scarlet, considering that vampires didn’t technically have the ability to blush. "Zack!" she screeched, sinking into her seat. "You egghead!"

"Mrs. Butterworth?" Buffy demanded, arching a brow.

"Shut up!"

Spike met his wife’s eyes and grinned unrepentantly. "Yeah, I gotta tell you, I’ve heard some kinky things…but that bloody well takes the cake."

"I wondered why you dressed up like a tub of syrup for Halloween," Buffy commented, shaking her head. "Here I thought I’d just missed an obvious joke."

"I can’t believe you told him!" Kelly wailed. "Ass!"

"Mom!" Rosie exclaimed, appalled. "Mom just said a swear!"

"Oh, bleeding bugger it!"

Spike stifled a laugh and shook his head. "It’s bloody amazin’ how funny that sounds comin’ from your mouth, Kel."

"Why does Mom like syrup?" Rosie asked. "She never uses it."

"Oh, she uses it, all right," Zack muttered, only to be thwapped hard by Buffy.

"Don’t you think you’re in enough trouble as it is, buddy?" the Slayer demanded. "You and your big mouth."

"Well, at least all my fetishes are normal."

Kelly calmed at that and crossed her arms. "Is that so? Two words for you: Mary Poppins."

The car stilled. Spike stared at Zack in horror.

Then Buffy burst out laughing, followed by Kelly’s mocking ridicule.

"Zangy?"

"Shut up," Zack growled, his face bright red. "Let’s just find the hotel."

"You mean the ones you guys were going to book but didn’t?" Buffy demanded, holding her sides. Granted, being undead, holding her sides wasn’t exactly a requirement, though it was a rather difficult habit to break.

Spike scowled. "Well, aren’ we li’l miss negative?"

"Oh please," Kelly moaned, rolling her eyes.

"We’re perfectly capable of making hotel reservations, I’ll have you know," Zack objected. "Why do you two always have to go to the bad place?"

"Because you typically follow up your promises to do something by heavy drinking and hare-brained schemes?" Kelly suggested.

"That is absolutely not what happened," Spike growled defensively. Then, a sheepish second later, he added, "Only, yeh, that’s what happened."

"You guys know us too well." Zack laughed. "We’re complicated nuts to crack. Consider that a feat."

Buffy and Kelly rolled their eyes virtually on the same beat.

"Oh please," the latter groaned again.

The Slayer held up one hand and began counting off. "Sex, blood, money, stupid-schemes, and alcohol."

"That’s amazing." Spike slapped Zack’s shoulder. "She pegged us on one guess."

"What were the odds?"

"We’re complicated nuts to crack, after all."

"Indubitably."

Spike paused. "You’ve been hangin’ around Rupert too much."

"Yeah, I gotta stop that."

"Heaven forbid he be a good influence," Kelly muttered.

"Or actually book us a hotel when we ask him to," Buffy added, though she didn’t sound too concerned. "This town’s so big, though. How hard could it be?"

*~*~*

"Honestly, Slayer, I thought you knew better."

"Shut up."

"Don’t call her ‘Slayer.’ We had this discussion already, remember?"

"Yes, Mrs. Butterworth."

"Hey! Only I get to call her that!"

"‘S that so, Mary Poppins?"

"I don’t like being _called_ Mary Poppins. I like…why am I telling you this? God, Buffy, this is all you’re fault!"

"Hey!"

"Watch it, mate."

"No, Spike, he’s right. After all, it was my job to book the hotel. Or, wait…no, that’s not right…"

"I wish Giles was here."

*~*~*

The first place with a **VACANCY** sign that they came across was a rundown crap-fest called _Shady Inn_. Kelly was so tired, though, by the time they drove up that she demanded that they, at the very least, stop for the night. After all, it wasn’t like they couldn’t find a more suitable hotel after getting over the jetlag.

"You know it’s bad when you constantly want to refer to the clerk as Mr. Bates," Buffy cracked dryly as she kicked off her shoes. She and Spike were thankfully alone, though they lacked the privacy they typically enjoyed. For whatever reason, sharing a closet made the rooms thirty dollars cheaper, and since no one wanted to spend more money in this hellhole than necessary, it was unanimously agreed upon that the cheaper deal was the better one.

Everything seemed so completely backwards in LA.

"Only for one night," Spike assured her, turning down the bed. "Zangy an’ I’ll have us in a posh place in no time."

"Sweetie?"

"Hmmm?"

"You know that Kelly and I are gonna handle the hotel-finding, right?"

A tired grin tickled his face. "What would I ever do without you?"

"Thankfully, that’s one question you’ll never need to answer."

He nodded his agreement and plopped down on the squeaky mattress tiredly. "Bugger. There’s a spring broken."

Buffy frowned. "Oh. Are you okay?"

"Landed right on it, but I reckon I’ll survive. Come to bed, sweet."

There was no telling her twice. She quickly changed into her favorite PJs—namely one of Spike’s patented black tees—and slipped under the covers and into his waiting arms. "I’m glad we’re here," she said as she settled against him. "It’ll be good for Zack and Kelly to see their folks."

"Try tellin’ them that."

"Well, after they get beyond the awkward ‘oh by the way, I’m a vampire’ thing."

Spike turned on his side, propping his cheek against his fist. "Wasn’ exactly easy for you, was it, luv?"

A soft, sad smile crossed her lips at that, and she shrugged. "It was easier ‘cause Mom was gone by then, so she didn’t have to see what I’d become. The other stuff?" A painful pause. "The other stuff wasn’t easier. They got off light."

The taste of his kiss kept her from falling down a path of unwanted memories. He kept her grounded, and she was so thankful. So incredibly thankful. She and Spike didn’t discuss the past too much anymore; it had become unnecessary—as source of growth spurned from pain. They’d already learned all the lessons; remembering was unnecessary now, especially when they were so happy.

The past was colored in pain, and it was over. And the fact that they had made it here at all was remarkable. No small miracle. No small miracle at all.

"It’s gonna be hard on them," she said. "I don’t think they know how hard."

Spike ran a hand down her arm and smiled softly. "Zangy got a taste of it t’night," he observed.

"He just thinks it’s weird being in LA," Buffy replied dryly. "He has no idea. When his mom needs to invite him into his childhood house? When he remembers how hard it is being around people whose scent he’s not familiar with? When he hears her heart beating, and it’s slightly different than Giles’s, but he can’t stop listening to it? It’s gonna drive him mad."

"I know, sweetling."

"Kelly, too. We haven’t told them enough."

He kissed her again, and her nerves fell to peace. "There’s some stuff that we can’t tell them. Even if I’d shared all my secrets before you were turned, sweet, you wouldn’t’ve been ready. They aren’, either. I half think Zangy still fancies the vamp world as bein’ somethin’ heroic or what all. He’s never tasted darkness."

"He did eat a guy once."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, an’ look how much he beats himself up over that."

"He also killed his best friend."

"Who’d slept with his wife. Then again, when he found out that he raped her." His gaze darkened. "That’s not darkness, baby. That’s instinct. An’ even when I had my spell a couple years ago…that wasn’ vamp-darkness. That was primal. That was…"

Buffy moaned and threw her head under the pillow. "Incredibly stupid."

"Well, yeh."

"You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

"You thought I was shaggin’ another bird—a thought you know I find revoltin’—you so snog my best mate." Spike shrugged. "I can see why you’d want me to stop bringin’ that up."

"It was the spell, remember? Voldemort? Evil?"

He grinned and lifted the pillow off her head, kissing her brow. "I remember."

"At any rate, I am looking forward to some action." The transition was so random, and she couldn’t help the flush that tainted her cheeks anymore than Spike could help the waggle of his brows at an obvious innuendo. "I mean, with as crime-centric as New York is, you’d think there’d be more vamps."

"Experience tells me that vamps tend to avoid New York because it’s so bloody popular. The only time I reckon it was ever really overrun with demons was when Nikki was the Slayer." He shrugged. "Slayers tend to attract action."

"You don’t say."

Spike smirked and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. "Don’ tell me you’ve been bored, luv," he murmured. "Normal life not exactly doin’ it for you?"

"I just have some kinks to work out."

He chuckled. "Thought you were knackered, but if you insist—"

She slapped at his hand before he could slide it down her leg. "Down boy."

This only enhanced his amusement, and his chest rumbled against her back with the warmth of his laughter. "We need to move into a larger place," he said. "The apartment’s nice, but there’s no room to spar. An’ every time we try—"

"Zack and Kelly bang on the wall and tell us to stop having sex?"

"Not that that ever does any good."

"Yeah, but they’d probably say something about the broken furniture."

"No more than what they usually say."

Buffy grinned and snuggled into him. "I am looking forward to slaying," she said, stifling a yawn. "Just a bit. Remind myself why I’m glad it’s not my fulltime job anymore. And if memory serves…"

"Los Angeles is ripe for the slayin’."

"We should take Zack and Kelly out. I don’t think they know how much more fun life is when you’re killing things."

"That’s my girl." Spike reached over her to shut off the light, then settled against her once more. "G’night, sweetheart."

"Night."

"Love you."

"Love you more."

"Don’ start that or we’ll never get to sleep."

Buffy laughed shortly and closed her eyes.

If anything, with patrolling, family reunions, and general nostalgia, this trip to LA would prove to be memorable. She just hoped it remained paced. Things were going to be rocky enough as it was.

Then again, LA was such a demon-beacon that she really couldn’t say.

All bets were off.


	2. Chapter 2

"Uh oh."

Zack Wright groaned, heaving a large, bloody axe onto the reception counter at the Hyperion. It was a little past three in the morning, and the place was still buzzing with activity. And while such wasn’t exactly unusual, he’d been in the business of demon-hunting long enough to know trouble when he saw it.

Plus, as he’d discovered over the years, ‘uh oh’ was Fred’s way of saying, "Jenkies!" or "Oh dear lord." It wasn’t a phrase used lightly. And the fact that she was pouring over ancient volumes of demonic text didn’t exactly do much to inspire hope.

"Fred," he moaned, flinching when the axe clanked loudly against the desk. "You know I hate it when you say that."

She turned, startled, her glasses somewhat crooked and her eyes wide with exhaustion wrapped in determination. "Wesley showed me how to use a binary code in deciphering segments of the ancient Glyp’korlach text."

"And this is why you’re giving me a heart attack at three in the fucking morning?"

"Well, according to this…" Fred gathered the huge, leather-bound edition in her small arms—the book all but dwarfing her in size. "The Patriarch is coming."

"Huh?"

"Something’s coming."

"Called the Patriarch."

"Yes."

"Is the Patriarch coming tonight?"

Fred frowned, then shook her head. "No."

"Then I really think this is something that can wait for, oh say, ten hours or so." He paused. "Why did Wes have you look up that Guacamole demon in the first place?"

She smiled awkwardly and shrugged. "Well, it’s actually kinda funny. Wes and I were trying to figure out what month would be astrologically acknowledged as a universal symbol of good fortune so we can set a date." Her cheeks reddened. "We want it to be special and all."

Wright rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah. I always thought that maybe my wedding day wasn’t special enough ‘cause I didn’t consult a psychic before setting a date. Isn’t the marriage part special enough for you two?"

"So says he who hasn’t popped the question yet."

"Cordy doesn’t want marriage."

"But she wants babies."

"The baby is a pleasant however incredibly unexpected surprise." Zack shrugged. "Hell, Fred, you’re the one that told us it was impossible for a woman with demon blood to get pregnant!"

"Yes, and you really learned your lesson by listening to me."

Wright grumbled something inaudible.

"I told you that I wasn’t the demon expert!"

"But you’re engaged to one, so that should make you one by default!"

Fred arched a brow. "You’re dating a pregnant woman. Does that make YOU a pregnant woman?"

"No, because I’m not engaged to her."

"You’re practically married!"

The retort waiting on his lips wouldn’t come; Wright paused and frowned. "What are we arguing about again?"

"Wesley’s and my tendency to be strange."

"Oh, right. And how…"

"Our being strange led to a discussion of binomial patterns in ancient demonic texts. Then Wesley was reminded of something he read and told me how to decipher this thing."

"He left you up all alone to research?"

As if on cue, a throat cleared from behind; Wright and Fred whirled around at the same time. Wesley stood in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. The expression on his face was torn between irritated and amused.

"I take it you’ve been standing there long enough to hear me make an ass out of myself."

Wesley arched a brow. "Yes, well, this is nothing I’m not accustomed to," he said, stepping forward and handing his fiancé one of the coffee cups. "Aside from petulant squabbling, how much as she told you?"

"Something about binomial code and the Patriarch."

"Binary code. The binomial code led me to the duality of the Glyp’korlach text, which was binary in nature—being that it has two different functions." Fred blushed. "Binomial links something together with a plus or minus sign. There are two elements, binary in nature, that will bring about the Patriarch."

Wright nodded as though he understood, rubbing his unshaven jaw. "And this Patriarch fella…" he mused. "Bad, I’m guessing."

"Incredibly bad, according to Wesley’s books."

A sigh rolled off Wright’s shoulders, and he tossed his business partner a look of pure disdain. "You had to go have a funky plan for your wedding day, didn’t you?"

The former Watcher had the decency to at least look sheepish. "Well, at least it’s better that we know," he offered weakly. "Correct?"

Wright glared at him a minute longer, then allowed a long sigh to roll off his shoulders, and nodded his agreement. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. So, there’s something called the Patriarch, and with it comes two different…things—"

"That would be where the binary comes in," Fred added helpfully.

"I have a headache."

"We do what we can to help."

There was a long pause. "Okay. Fred, Wes…go to bed. Tomorrow, we’ll research the Patriarch. We’ll see if the Host knows anything. If not…well…" He quirked a brow. "There’s always the cemetery."

Fred frowned.

"Well, think patriarchal roots…" Wright shrugged. "Cemetery’s as good a place as any."

"I agree." Wesley nodded. "Only first…your suggestion of sleep was definitely a good one."

"After you brought me coffee?"

Wright grinned at the helpless look that overwhelmed his friend’s face and threw his hands up. "And that, my friends, is where I say goodnight."

"You’re gonna leave a bloody axe on the counter?"

"You’re free to clean it up, if you like."

"I’m not Rosalie!" Fred called after him. "Don’t you go around thinking that you can push me around!"

"I am your boss, you know."

"So is Wesley!"

Wright smiled to himself and shook his head as he stepped into the elevator. As expected, Cordelia was waiting for him when he arrived on their floor. Their bedroom door was always left slightly ajar in case Rosalie needed something, though he suspected, more now than ever before, that her motives were geared more toward making sure the father of her unborn child arrived home safely…especially considering his vocation.

"You know when you shout in a big, empty hotel, the acoustics carry it all the way up here, right?" she asked sleepily.

"Go to bed."

"I am in bed. You go to bed."

"Go to sleep."

"You do your thing first."

Wright smiled and kicked off his shoes. "You feeling okay?"

"I’d feel better if I were asleep, but I’m still waiting for Mr. Daddy to get into bed."

"Has the baby kicked?"

"Only a couple times. Nothing you haven’t felt, oh say, a hundred times already."

He shrugged, quickly stripping down to his boxers. "You can’t blame me for being an eager father."

"No, I can’t. But I can blame you for not being in bed. Speaking of which…"

Wright rolled his eyes and slid under the covers.

"I saw that," she warned.

"No, you just know me too well."

"Uh huh. Sleepy time."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "‘Night."

"Morning," she corrected.

And they slept.

*~*~*

Morning came too soon. 

Zack could have pretended that it was too early. Despite the fact that the sun was beginning to shine over Los Angeles and he could feel the new day in his undead bones, he could have lied to himself and said that as long as his wife quietly lay beside him, though she was awake as he, that day had not arrived and he didn’t have to face his parents. 

But when he heard both of the kids silently scramble in the bed, he knew his plans were screwed. 

Zack didn’t have to look over to know that they were still in the bed, but both of children were awake. The only real noise made was a couple of small squeaks from William, though Zack wasn’t sure if they were happy or scared. Then he heard Rosie quietly begin to count to ten in manner that suggested that she was encouraging her little brother to join her. 

"What in God’s name are you two up to?" Zack whispered from the other side of the room, pretending he didn’t know the whole room was awake. 

"Thirteen alive, eight dead," Rosie called out in a muffled cheer. 

Zack and Kelly sat up straight in their beds and looked over to see their son and daughter’s butts and feet in the air as they looked over the edge of their beds to peak underneath the bed curtain. 

"Bugs," William squeaked in that same tone of fear and excitement. 

"Zack," Kelly said giving him a dirty look. 

He shrugged. "You said it was okay last night." 

"That was before the bugs." 

"Like a place called the _Shady Inn_ wouldn’t have a pest problem? Hell, I think we’re staying in a rentable crack-house, Kel." 

Kelly whacked her husband before getting out of bed and checking the floor for critters. "Well, the sooner we get ready the sooner we can get out of here. What time is it?" 

"Breakfast!" Both kids called out. As always, they woke up instantaneously ready to eat. 

Kelly went into the bathroom and made the decision that the tub would be suitable for a shower, but no child would be allowed to sit in the questionable tub. "Rosie, you and me need to take a shower before we go." 

"Cool!" Rosie said, excited that she didn’t have to take a bath like her little brother. 

"What about Will?" Zack asked as he pulled out a clean pair of jeans from his suitcase. 

"He’ll get his bath tonight." 

Zack didn’t need to ask for Kelly-logic, even though his daughter began to whine that it wasn’t fair that she had to be clean when her brother didn’t. Kelly was in full mother mode as she picked out clothes for both of the children while also grabbing a shirt for her husband. 

Nobody asked any questions as they accepted their attire. Then, Zack looked over at his son. "You wanna come with me and find some breakfast?" 

"Yeah!" 

With that, they were gone. Zack was about to knock on the door next door, but vampiric hearing told him that Spike and Buffy were otherwise preoccupied in their morning routine and he probably didn’t want his son to see or hear what would happen if they interrupted. 

They drove around for a bit until they came across of butcher shop. Over the years, he was almost amazed with the number of excuses as to why a normal person would need to purchase a large amount of animal blood. Either butchers were aware of the underworld or they were really gullible. Zack prided himself with the idea of the latter. 

After walking to the car with a bag full of goodies, he was still chuckling at the thought of Kelly preparing a traditional ancient Tahitian sacrificial soup for 200 guests. From there, he decided that they would circle back past the donut shop that he had spotted along the way. 

Encouraged by the fact that there was a line when they stepped inside, Zack began perusing the mirror as he prepared to wait. "You want jelly ones, buddy?" 

William was enthralled by the people and the smells, so he did little more than nod absently. He wanted to dash to the front counter to see all the treats ahead, but was too afraid to leave his father’s side. 

Zack was still naming off various breakfast options when another couple of customers came and joined them at the end of the line. 

"I don’t even like donuts," a young woman complained. 

"You like those cream-filled ones. The ones with chocolate frosting," her companion reasoned. 

"Those are here?" She said with interest. "But still, I don’t know why she gets everything she wants." 

The other woman played with her long, dark hair absently. "She’s pregnant and demanding. Granted, she’s always demanding, but now even more so. Besides, these are good donuts." 

"Still," she complained, folding her arms. 

Minutes went by and finally Zack and William approached the counter. "Can I help you?" the server asked. 

Zack looked down at his son. "What do you want?" 

As any small child would be, he was overwhelmed with excitement and began pointing at every variety in the display case. Zack, as much of a child at heart as the three year old, started buying them. 

Zack sensed the frustration of the easily annoyed woman behind him after the first dozen of individually selected pastries, but didn’t start enjoying her sighs and groans until dozen number three. When he heard her mutter something to the effect of "jackass and the little spoiled brat" he kicked it up a notch. 

"Is that all?" the server asked closing the lid on their fourth dozen box of donuts, seeming unfazed by the whole process. 

"Yeah, do you have any more of those cream-filled ones? The ones with the chocolate frosting?" 

"Let me check." 

The annoyed woman seemed on the verge of screaming as the server went to the back. "You know, some of us have things to do today." 

"Oh, sorry," Zack said, voice dripping in false sincerity. "But you know us jackasses with our spoiled little brats." 

The other woman’s jaw dropped. "S-She didn’t mean it. She was talking about…me?" 

Luckily, the server returned. "We have two dozen in the back." 

He flashed an evil grin behind him. "We’ll take ‘em." 

"I hope you die of a slow and painful heart attack." 

"Trust me," Zack said as he flipped out his wallet and proceeded to pay more for breakfast than he had for all of the other donuts he had eaten in his entire lifetime combined. "That’s not gonna happen." He grabbed the bags of food in one hand and his son’s hand in the other. "Have a nice day!" 

"Bye bye!" William called as they headed for the door. 

Zack noted with glee that the annoying woman was being restrained by her friend from coming after him. He loaded his son and seven dozen donuts in the rental car and hoped that it was a sign that a good day was on the horizon. 

*~*~*

It had only been five years, but standing on Rodeo Drive, looking at the formal wear that she’d have to soon fit into for her upcoming nuptials, Fred was reminded how very long she’d been in Pylea. Lifetimes, it seemed, before Wesley and Zack had pulled her out. And even though several years had passed since she’d slept on hard rock and cleaned herself in increasingly dirty water, there were times when she awoke in a cold panic.

She was fortunate. She was marrying the man of her dreams—a man who adored her. She’d catch him looking at her with such open longing and adoration, and her heart would do the pounding-thing. She’d suffered through hell to find her Elysian, and in that, it was worth everything.

"Pretty!"

Fred blinked and glanced down. There was a child at her side. A girl with eyes too old to belong to a child so young. It surprised her, because she’d seen it once before. Only Rosalie was older, now. She was a teenager—and a rather headstrong one at that. The girl beside her couldn’t be too old.

No, but those eyes. Those eyes were ancient.

"I like those," she said matter-of-factly, pointing at the burgundy dress on the far left. "Are you shopping?"

Fred blinked again, quickly glancing around, hoping to catch a panicking parent. Children just didn’t wander Los Angeles by themselves. "I…ummm…yes," she replied, forcing an awkward smile.

"For your wedding."

Okay. Kind of creepy. That was more a Rosalie-quality, too. "Yes," she said. "For my wedding. I…where is your mother?"

The child shrugged casually. "At the motel with my dad and brother."

"Did you…umm…you’re not…running away, are you?"

"I don’t—"

"ROSIE MORRIS. You stay right the _bloody hell_ where you are!"

Fred about jumped out of her skin, her eyes widening when she caught a familiar glance of platinum hair to match a voice she knew well. "Spike!" she yelped in surprise before glancing to the pretty blonde at the vampire’s side. "A-and Buffy. I…she…" She glanced down at the girl, who was staring at her like she was the one out of place. "She…I…"

Buffy’s eyes softened from the point of outrage to kindness, though that didn’t stop her from throwing Rosie a hard glance. "Fred," she said warmly. "God, it’s been forever. How are you?"

"Good," she replied, her tone short. "Very good. And…yes. It’s been…a while."

Forever and a day. Suddenly, Fred’s nerves were on fire. Buffy and Spike were in town? How long had they been in town? Why hadn’t they called? Since when did they have a daughter?

A word floated across her head.

_Patriarch_.

Was Spike the Patriarch? Vampire-with-baby didn’t happen very often. Well, okay, so there was that one time with Angel and Darla, but one time out of a millennia of nothing before that didn’t make it very often. It was an anomaly.

"Your mum’s gonna thrash you when we get back," Spike growled at the girl. "This is _not_ New York. You can’t just wander off like you do at home."

"You let her wander in New York?" Fred asked dumbly.

"It’s home there." Spike barely looked at her—his arms were suddenly full of quivering child. "Rosie’s a bloody stick of dynamite. Anyone who messes with her gets what’s coming to them. But sodding hell, that doesn’t mean you can run off whenever the mood strikes you."

"I was bored," the child whined.

"And?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "What?" she asked, stroking Spike’s arm in a way that drew his angered eyes away from the girl and to her in a wave of that pure adoration that Fred knew so well. If she didn’t have Wesley waiting for her at the Hyperion, she might have been envious. "And you’ve never wandered off and gotten yourself in trouble because of boredom."

"That’s different!" Spike complained. "I’m a bloody adult."

"Says who?"

"Buffy, I’m a hundred an’ fifty-seven years old. Do we actually need to get into semantics here?"

"So," Fred said awkwardly, waving a bit to remind them that she was standing right there. "She’s…the girl’s not yours?" _You’re not the Patriarch that’s gonna ruin my wedding?_

Buffy and Spike glanced up sharply and, in perfect unison, blinked at her.

Then, together, burst out laughing.

"No way!" Rosie objected, wiggling in Spike’s arms. "He’s not my daddy!"

"I…I didn’t think it was that funny," Fred said, crossing her arms self-consciously.

"It’s not," Buffy assured her, holding her stomach for what Fred knew to be completely unneeded gasps of air. Buffy was a vampire. She knew that. She’d stayed with them for weeks after the entire Pylean affair, having very loud sex with the vampire beside her. Hell, Wesley and Zack had asked them to move to a different wing, and even that hadn’t done anyone much good. "It’s…well…"

"Nibblet here belongs to a friend," Spike explained, wrapping an arm around his mate’s waist. "I’m her…well, surrogate uncle."

"Uncle Spike," Rosie confirmed with a nod, her struggles desisting. "And I want to look at the pretty dress!"

"How long have you been in town?" Fred asked.

"Popped in last night. Here to see the Bit’s grandparents an’ the like."

Yeah. That was way too coincidental. If Buffy and Spike had just so happened to arrive the night she and Wesley just so happened to discover a prophecy about a big evil arising, then their arrival was likely more the Powers moving all the major players into apocalypse mode. Fred sighed. It was never simple. "Ahhh," she said, forcing a smile. "Ummm, you guys might wanna drop by the Hyperion later. We’ve got something going on and…it might be that your being here…"

Buffy and Spike rolled their eyes together. It was cute—the way they were so synchronized with each other. "It’s never just one thing, is it?" the Slayer demanded, shaking her head. "We can’t just be here to visit people. There’s always gotta be some Big Evil ready to end the stupid world."

"It’s just a little prophecy," Fred said, shrugging. "But if you’re here—hey! Were you guys even gonna let us know you were in town? I mean, I know it’s been a while but…hey! It’s been a while. And we haven’t seen you and I know that everyone would love to, you know, see you. And—"

They were looking at her like she was crazy now.

"Well," Spike said after a long minute. "We’ll try an’ stop by tonight, all right?"

"But you weren’t gonna come by at all, were you?"

"We’re here to see the Bit’s grandparents, pet. Penciling in an apocalypse wasn’t exactly on the itinerary. An’ call be bloody crazy, but avoiding the temptation to stake Peaches through the heart? Not exactly the way I wanted to spend my vacation."

Fred blinked again. Hard. "Peaches? Who’s…I don’t…"

Spike waved a dismissive hand, then laced his fingers through his mate’s and tugged her to his side. "We’ll be by," he said, nodding. "‘m bloody sure Zangy’s gonna be thrilled to have a reason to avoid his parents, anyway."

Buffy nodded, turning. She didn’t look any more enlightened than Fred felt. "It was nice running into you!" she said. "We’ll be by later to help stop the apocalypse."

Fred watched them leave with a frown. There was definitely something going on.

They hadn’t asked about Zack. Why hadn’t they asked about Zack? Or Cordy? And who in the world was Peaches?

There was something going on. Something had already put the whammy on Buffy and Spike.

"Oh dear," Fred said, her shoulders slumping. "Wesley’s not gonna like this."


	3. Chapter 3

After three coin tosses and a dozen rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors, it was decided that Kelly’s family would get the first visit.

Needless to say, things went less than well.

Actually, they went less than horrible.

With the news that the eldest Kapowski sibling was back in town, four of Kelly’s siblings had gathered at their parent’s house for a family lunch. Things were awkward from the moment that the doorbell rang. If getting a house invitation for Zack and Kelly wasn’t hard enough, getting Frank Kapowski to invite an unwelcome Spike and Buffy inside was excruciating.

After that things approached the realm of normal until Rosie decided to muse about how Aunt Nicky’s fiancée looked like a Ma’Muk demon.

"A what?" Nicky sputtered as all eyes turned to the child.

Her biological, as well as her godparents, knew that allowing the child to actually describe a Ma’Muk demon would be far from good and decided to try and redeem any chance of normalcy. "Kids," Kelly laughed nervously. "You know how they are with their movies and video games and such."

"Lord of the Rings," Zack offered.

"Harry Potter," Buffy said simultaneously.

"Dungeons an’ Dragons," Spike quipped with a nod. Somehow his seemed the least acceptable of the suggestions offered, and all eyes turned to him in horror. He took the moment in stride with little more than a shrug. "Just guessin’. Not like ‘m her parents or anythin’."

The moment was quickly brushed off as a more looming event came forth: lunch.

To say that the meal resembled a dysfunctional family comedy would be an understatement; as well as a compliment to the events that transpired. Needless to say, the magicks that Willow had been teaching Kelly over the past few months came in handy since at various points throughout the remainder of the "meal" restraining and memory charms had to be performed on every part of Kelly’s family.

Piling into the rental SUV nearly two hours later left everyone frazzled, distressed and relieved to be alive…or undead.

"That was…" Buffy couldn’t quite find the words to describe what she had just witnessed.

"Yeh," her husband replied blankly.

The car was silent for several minutes, filled with nothing more than Kelly’s silent sobs as Zack drove as fast and as far from the Kapowski house as possible.

Rosie broke the silence several minutes later. "So…I guess we aren’t going back for Christmas?"

As Kelly’s sobs grew louder, Zack winced. "Probably not. I’m not even sure if they remember having your mother right now."

"I think that Billy may not remember he’s a man," Buffy pointed out, causing Kelly to cry even harder.

"Red can fix it when she gets in later this week," Spike said trying to reason the situation.

And that was that.

The kids complained about the lack of lunch that they had had and a trip to nearest fast food joint was ordered. After the meal, they drove to a nearby park where the kids were allowed to run around while the adults looked on from a couple of benches. All the while, everyone took notice to how Zack continuously looked at his watch.

Spike, lighting up another cigarette, finally asked the question. "So, when’d you tell the mum we’d come?"

"Oh," Zack said absently, pretending that he was dreading it with all of his unlife. "Fourish…but she’s probably forgotten. You know how moms are."

That was the moment that The Fates decided to give Zack another reality check as his cell phone sprang to life.

"Giles." Buffy predicted.

"The authorities," Spike chimed, getting a well-deserved glare from Kelly.

"Willow?" Kelly hoped.

"My mom," Zack muttered before flipping his phone open. "Hey, Mom!" He said with false cheer. "What’s up?"

The group looked at one another wondering what to expect.

"No," Zack said moments later. "You’re not interrupting. Things at Kel’s parents…" he cleared his throat. "Ended early." He avoided eye contact with his wife as he heard her whimper. "You want us to head over early?"

"Might as well get it over with," Buffy muttered.

"No, we aren’t busy now, Mom. Sure. Yeah. Heading over. Yeah. See you soon. Heh."

*~*~*

As they walked up the walkway, Zack turned to his wife. "No matter what, don’t use magicks on my parents."

Kelly looked angry enough to almost cast a spell over him. "I was nervous. I…I’m good dammit!"

"Yeah," Buffy said mockingly. "That’s why you blew out all the back windows on your parent’s house."

"I was nervous!" she hissed as they approached the Morris’ front door.

"An’ killed the dog," Spike pointed out.

"Lucky," Kelly whimpered just as Zack hit the doorbell.

Buffy couldn’t resist. "Not so lucky anymore."

Before anything else could be said, the front door sprang open and Melody Morris stood before them with a smile so big and genuine that she couldn’t possibly have any clue as to what stood before her. There was a little grayer in her blonde hair than Zack and Kelly had remembered and a few more wrinkles creasing her face, but she was otherwise the mother they had long remembered. "It’s about time you came to see me," she said attempting to admonish, but unable to accomplish her intention as she lunged forward to pull her son into an embrace.

"Hi, Mom," he said, uncharacteristically shy.

"You can give me all your elaborate excuses in a minute." She then tuned her hugs to her daughter-in-law and grandchildren.

Zack gestured to the blonde couple standing awkwardly on the steps. "This is—"

"Spike and Buffy," Melody said with a smile. "He thinks I’m old and senile and forget things. Well, he wishes at least." She looked again at her son briefly before turning and heading inside. "Now c’mon and get in here so I can spend some more time lecturing you for waiting so long to let me see my grandchildren."

As Rosie and William ran inside following the smell of cookies, the other four looked at one another and breathed a sigh of relief before stepping over the threshold.

"So how long are you guys planning on staying in town?"

The group looked from one another, realizing that hadn’t totally been decided upon. "We were thinking a couple of weeks, but our return flight tickets are open-ended," Kelly explained. "We kinda all just decided that we needed a break from New York and wanted to come back to California to visit family and friends."

Melody smiled and nodded as she gestured for everyone to sit down on the living room furniture. After showing the kids an assortment of toys she had set up in the corner, several obviously old enough to be their father’s, she sat down with the awkward adult group.

"I remember that you guys lived in Sunnydale when Zack and Kelly moved there," she said to Spike and Buffy. "I wanted to come by and visit, but every time that I mentioned the idea, my son would insist that they make the drive up here."

Buffy gave a nervous laugh. "Well…Sunnydale is a pretty unusual place. Crime rates are exceedingly high." 

"‘S not like Los Angeles is bloody Mayberry, Slayer," Spike drawled, only to earn a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Oi! Easy on the goods, love."

"No, she’s right. I’ve heard a few rumors," Melody replied almost cryptically. "I guess that was why I was so relieved when you all decided to move to New York. Granted, I had no idea that would mean that it would take you almost three years to let me see my only grandchildren."

"I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just been…life has thrown in a few surprises."

"It always does. Cookies anyone?"

Melody Morris cookies are an offer that cannot be turned down by man or demon.

"Where’s Derek?" Kelly asked, looking around and expecting him to pop into the room any minute.

Melody’s eyes darkened slightly as a sigh escaped her. "He called about an hour ago saying that he had to leave on an emergency business trip. Something about processing chips being defective or something." She shrugged and turned her eyes to her son. "I’m sorry. He promises that before you guys leave that you two will have to get together for a few drinks and catching up."

Zack was long accustomed to his absentee father and his business trips. The majority of his life his father had been working. His mother had been a house wife and so they quickly developed the closer of the two relationships. His father hadn’t been too terrible of a parent, despite the fact he was hardly ever there when he needed him. In the end, no matter what the crazy scheme he concocted and failingly executed, it was his mother that was there in the end to bail him out and reassure him that everything would be okay.

That being said, he didn’t really want to have to do this twice. He had planned to admit today to his parents the truth about who he now was. After spending nearly a month psyching himself up for this moment, he just didn’t think he could wait an indeterminate amount of more time.

And if worse came to worse, he’d just let his mommy tell Derek that he’s a vampire.

"Well…I was kinda hoping you would both be here when I told you this."

Melody knew her son well and that was never a good sign. She decided to first go for optimistic. "Are you guys having another baby?"

"Nope."

She paused and swallowed. "Do you need money?" Zack shook his head. "Do you need a place to stay?"

"I have a nice apartment, Mom."

She looked around the room, settling on Spike and Buffy. "Do you guys need money?" They gave her an amused look and shook their heads. "Do you need a place to stay?"

"Our place is even nicer than theirs," Spike scoffed.

"Are you and Kelly getting a divorce?"

"No, Mom."

Puzzlement colored her face as she turned back to her son. "Do you have a drug problem, Zack?"

"No!"

"Kelly?"

"No."

She glanced to the children.

"No," Zack sighed. "Nothing’s wrong with the children. Well, nothing that isn’t…No. The kids are fine."

"Are you in trouble with the authorities?"

Everyone except Zack had to laugh. "Mom!"

"Well, Zack. As your mother I know you have a gift for scheming. And there has been a time or two that your best plans haven’t exactly gone as…planned."

"God, does she know him or what?" Buffy said to Kelly.

"I’m a damn good schemer!" Zack huffed. "My plans always come out as planned!"

Even the children had to stop to gaze incredulously at Zack Morris.

"I am!"

"Oh, honey," Melody soothed.

"Don’ worry, Mum," Spike assured. "I happen to be a much better schemer. So ‘tween the boy an’ I—"

"They’re perpetually in trouble," Kelly finished. "But that isn’t the issue."

"Oh." Melody was at a total loss as to what could be troubling him so much. "Zack…have you hurt someone?"

He stared blankly. "Huh?"

"Have you killed somebody?"

His eyes went wide. "Do you honestly expect me to answer that?" And he wasn’t going to admit that he had indeed killed a few.

She was totally lost.

"Tax evasion?"

"Well…" He shrugged. "Yes, but no."

"Catholic?"

"Mother! God…a little credit please."

"Scientology?"

"An’ I thought Catholic was a low blow," Spike snickered.

"Have you guys joined a cult?"

"A cult?" Kelly asked.

"You guys are going to take my babies and make them drink poison Kool-Aid?"

"Seriously, mom? Poisoned Kool-Aid?" Zack sighed and stood up and began to pace the living room. "I’m not sure if what I do have to tell you is better or worse than what you’ve imagined."

"Better than scientology, Zangy. Not sure ‘bout the trouble with the law."

Zack kept pacing the room until he found himself standing in front of the fireplace. For as long as he could remember there had been a mirror hanging above the mantel. Every day before school and before every date he’s ever been on in his adolescent life he had paused to check himself out before heading out the door in front of that mirror. Whether it was to give his hair one last comb or to make sure there was nothing on his shirt, that mirror had always been a part of his daily ritual. Looking into the mirror now he saw nothing expect his mother’s concern over his shoulder and his children coloring in the far corner.

And he knew it was time.

"Mom," he said turning around to face her. "I know this isn’t going to sound real, but please just try to hear me out." He took a steadying breath and looked her square in the eye. "I’m a vampire."

She blinked twice but didn’t miss a beat. "I agree, Zack. It doesn’t sound real."

All things considered, that was a better first reaction than he expected. In fact there was a small sigh of relief from the room.

Melody wrinkled her nose. "Is that a gang name?"

"No, Mom." Though he had to admit…The Vampires would be a pretty cool sounding gang.

"Vampire…" She paused and nervously laughed before becoming serious once again. "You mean as in vampire?" He could do nothing but nod as her gaze fell only to him. "And by vampire am I supposed to assume something to the effect of _Interview with a Vampire_ vampire?"

There was a slight pause. "Yes, but no."

"Ann Rice is a bloody ignorant bint who wouldn’t know a vamp if it bit her on her soddin’ neck!"

"Right principle though," Kelly clarified.

Melody sat in silence for several minutes and no one in the room could gaze her reaction. The minutes dragged on as she concentrated on nothing more than the floor. Finally she looked up at Kelly. "And you?"

"Yes," she admitted sheepishly.

She turned to her remaining guests who did nothing more than nod their heads. "The kids?"

"Are fine," Buffy said taking charge. "They’re perfectly healthy and normal as far as kids can be considering."

Melody nodded letting the fact that he grandchildren were relatively okay sink in. "Vampires…aren’t they…well…dead?"

"Undead," Buffy answered again, deciding that the best way she could help at this point was to take on an instructor role. "We’re technically not alive because we no longer have a heartbeat."

Questions bubbled forth more as Melody’s mind began to race. "I thought vampires drank blood, and had no souls and killed people and…" She looked at her son. "Was that why you never answered my murder question, Zackary?"

"Mom!"

Her face suddenly turned into the quintessential mom-face: her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed out. "Zack?"

Suddenly he felt like he was sixteen all over again. "That’s not why I didn’t answer, okay?"

Kelly decided to throw him a rope. "Yes, we drink blood and technically vampires don’t have souls." That seemed to snap Melody’s attention back to things as she turned to face her daughter-in-law. "Zack, Buffy and I have souls. It’s complicated and should be left for another of many discussions that we should have about this. But rest assured, we have souls and we don’t go around murdering people."

Melody was a quick woman and noticed one name absent from the list. Her eyes turned to Spike demanding answers for his non-soulness. "Look," Spike sighed. "Really more for conversation number two. Just know ‘m the one and only soulless creature in this universe that you should ever allow in your front door."

"Spike’s special," Kelly said, quickly earning an annoyed glance from the platinum vampire that didn’t appreciate her phrasing or the snicker that involuntarily escaped from her husband’s lips. She brushed it off with an eye roll. "When you have more time to adjust to this we can explain to you more about how the demon world works."

"I was afraid you’d say more," Melody said slumping in her chair.

"No more!" Zack assured. Pausing to catch himself before adding. "Well, yes. A little more. But nothing as mind-altering as this."

Melody nodded and rubbed her eyes.

Spike gave her an almost awed look. "An’ you’re not too surprised."

"What?" she asked, taking her hands down to look at him.

"Surprised, yes. Shocked, no." His lips twitched up in a smile. "You know more than you let on."

Zack, Kelly and Buffy all turned their questioning eyes to him.

"Well, not necessarily." She shook her head. "You hear things, but you never fully believe." She shook her head again. "Rumors of unnatural things are just that. Rumors. Someone says that they heard from someone that heard it from someone else that this person died unnaturally. Or that someone heard that someone was seen with something that wasn’t human." She shrugged. "You really just hope its gossip."

"You’ve heard things?" Zack was beyond shocked. His mother had actually heard things.

Buffy gave his a doubtful look. "We’re in L.A. you idiot."

"But…" Zack was still at a loss for words.

"And Sunnydale. Any mention of Sunnydale…well, friends would gossip," Melody admitted.

And that was that. The inevitable had happened. Never in his wildest dreams would Zack had ever dreamed to think that his mother would listen to what he had to say, let alone accept it in the end. But she had.

As they walked out the door several hours later, Melody took the time to hug each person as they crossed over the threshold, holding onto her son the last and longest. "I love you, Zack."

"I love you too, Mom."

"And never again keep my babies away for three years or I swear I will find you and stake you myself."

He looked at her and saw that she seemed half serious.

"How about I bring them over Saturday?"

"Friday night."

"Deal."

As they piled into the rental again, they really didn’t know how long the Powers were going to look upon them favorably, but they decided they weren’t about to let good fortune pass them by.

*~*~*

The stress of the day quickly compiled into a shared need to patrol. Patrolling was, after all, the best way to work off stress…provided Buffy’s numerous reassurances that Los Angeles was a healthier vampiric breeding ground than New York were correct.

Typically, days like this lent themselves to uneventful patrolling excursions in the always mundane Big Apple. The notoriety of the town had most of the residential undead fairly inactive when it came to siring newbloods or concocting plans for the next apocalypse. In fact, New York itself had one of the lowest vampire populations in the country. And while the city did enjoy a good number of other demonic residents, it was vamps that were the easiest to sniff out and destroy. Demons had a habit of making themselves productive members of society. Annoying for patrol—good for society. And since Buffy and Kelly were philanthropists, they refused their husbands the right of killing those demons that held jobs, paid taxes, and voted democrat.

The lack of baddies to kill meant Buffy and Spike had sparred each other silly the past few years, though their mock-battles almost always resulted in a noisy and oftentimes destructive race to the bedroom. They were used to needing violence in their daily ritual to survive; Zack and Kelly were not, though their inherent vampiric natures demanded it of them. Therefore, when Zack became restless, Spike would rent out one of the larger buildings downtown and the three of them would duke it out.

One time—one—Zack had coerced Kelly into joining them. It was healthy, he said, especially considering she was a vampire who needed violence in order to maintain a natural lifestyle. Unsurprisingly, the result had been disastrous. Kelly stood awkwardly on the sidelines, watching Spike and Zack beat the living crap out of each other while Buffy gently attempted to coax her into the fun. In the end, Kelly ended up bawling her eyes out when she swung instinctively on the first punch and sent Buffy crashing into the nearest wall. It’d taken two hours and numerous demonstrations between Buffy and Spike to convince Kelly that she hadn’t scarred Buffy for her unlife.

Since then, the normal routine of Spike and Buffy sparring their way to the bedroom had resumed.

Thankfully, the precarious closeness of Los Angeles to the Hellmouth guaranteed at least one of the graveyards would be active—if not all of them. And they had all the time they could ask for—Melody had insisted she keep the kids while the adults acquired some much needed "alone" time. There was no need to rush.

"That went rather well," Spike said, squeezing Buffy’s hand as the four strode through the gates of Rosedale Cemetery.

Zack glared at him.

Spike shrugged. "What? Your mum din’t blow a bloody fuse an’ my mate’s not covered in dog fur. Don’ think you have any right to complain."

"She called me a scientologist!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I like how he latches onto that one thing."

Spike quirked a brow and smirked at her. "Are we pretending to be surprised, luv?"

"No. I’m just making an observation." Buffy turned to Zack, shaking her head. "He’s right. No exploding puppies automatically boosts your score in the win column."

"Could we not talk about exploding puppies?" Kelly whimpered.

"Maybe after I’ve showered Lucky’s guts out of my hair," Buffy murmured. It was one of her more brazenly callous moments; those that clearly distinguished the dichotomy between her and Kelly. For as much as the women had in common, they had even more not in common. Buffy being the Slayer automatically made her immune to all things otherwise gross in nature. "I’m gonna need a good long soak in the tub when we get back."

"Now’s not a good time to mention we’re at _Shady Inn_ another night, is it?" Zack asked helplessly.

Kelly moaned.

Spike was too busy rubbing Buffy’s back with sensual encouragement that was not at all subtle to assume blame for their extended accommodations. "I’ll be glad to help you scrub those hard-to-reach places, kitten."

Buffy grinned and tugged him down for what was supposed to be a quick kiss, which rapidly—and predictably—spiraled out of control until Zack and Kelly’s dueled moans of protest forced them to separate. The blonde couple shot their friends identical pouts.

"What?" Spike demanded. "We were good all day!"

"Very good!" Buffy agreed, scowling.

"You guys were in the laundry room for twenty minutes at my parents’ house," Kelly pointed out.

Buffy’s eyes dropped to her shoes; Spike just smirked proudly. "Slayer had a stain I was helpin’…rub out."

"That wasn’t even subtle, you know," Zack informed him.

"An’ how long have you known me, Zangy? Do I ever go for subtle?"

"Buffy was screaming like a banshee!" Kelly objected.

Spike’s grin just broadened. "Bloody right she was!"

"Well, yeah," Buffy objected, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "But it’s not like anyone’s gonna remember that."

"I dunno, pet. Your screams are pretty memorable."

"All of this leading up to the indisputable fact that, no, you two weren’t good today." Kelly beamed as though she’d won the lottery. Then, just as quickly, her smile melted into a frown at the googly eyes the pair was giving each other. "Not that it was any different or telling you will do any good and for the love of God, just go and patrol or find a mausoleum for a quickie. It’s been nearly ninety minutes, so you guys must be—"

That was way brazen for Kelly. Everyone just stopped and stared at her in horror.

Then she burst into tears. "Why couldn’t I get the good family reunion?"

"Because your reflections charm ended up creating a vortex?" Buffy suggested.

"You mojo’d the sugar jar an’ we were attacked by a bloody legion of gingerbread men?" Spike reminded her. "An’ when you tried to patch _that_ up with magic…"

Spike, Buffy, and Zack exchanged looks before collectively saying, "Man-eating spatulas."

"I need to kill something," Kelly decided quickly, wiping her eyes. It was quite the declaration coming from her, and only served as further testament to how distressed she was. "Zack?"

Zack nodded sympathetically and turned to Spike. "We’re gonna head east. You guys…?"

Spike shrugged and tossed a speculative glance to Buffy. "I go where the lady points me."

"That’s ‘cause your whipped," she agreed happily.

"Only on Thursdays."

Zack didn’t know what to make of that—he was pretty sure Spike would have told him about a whip fetish, so he decided to chalk it up to playful banter. Either way, the couples parted and he was left tending to his sniffling wife, who kept murmuring suspicious phrases like, "Fix it," "One little spell," and "piece of cake." He wondered if perhaps Willow should be called to intervene in more ways than one. It might be better to avoid another apocalypse-by-magic incident, if anything Buffy and Spike had told him was true.

And based on the magic-madness he saw in Kelly, he definitely believed it was.

*~*~*

"I don’t think I’ve ever been so bored in my life," Kelly announced mournfully, kicking at dark blades of grass. "Wasn’t this supposed to be a hopping demon killage ground?"

"Maybe Buffy was wrong," Zack suggested with a shrug. "I mean, she hasn’t been here in years. We can’t expect everything to remain the same…can we?"

"I really wanted to kill something tonight!"

If Kelly was talking about killing things, he knew she needed release. Kelly barely had the courage to kill spiders in their house, and only did so when William started bawling. And it wasn’t that she was afraid of spiders—she just didn’t like the crunch sound they made when smashed under one’s shoe. She also didn’t like the sight of guts, which was odd, considering her husband and her best friends’ profession. She could wash Gry’horlok brains out of Zack’s t-shirts, but point out a dead squirrel on the road and she was the epitome of the squeamish female.

"For all the talking they’d done, I thought this place would be crawling with vamps." Kelly sighed, finally giving up and parking it on the nearest headstone. "Figures the one day I wanna fight, and there’s nothing here."

Zack obligingly assumed the open seat beside her, exhaling deeply. "This sucks."

"Yes."

"This really sucks." He sighed again. "Buffy has some explaining to do."

*~*~*

"Grab ‘im by the neck!"

Buffy flinched, dropping to the ground to avoid the swing of the snarling beast before her. "What?!" she screamed over the growls.

"The neck, luv, the neck!"

"Yeah," she muttered, swiping the vamp off his feet with a quick kick, flipping over his head and hooking her arm around his throat. "It’s easy to give orders from the sidelines, isn’t it?"

Spike grinned as he stormed forward, imbedding his stake into the struggling vampire’s chest. A quick explosion later, and nothing stood between them; Buffy was left dusting off residual vamp bits as her annoyingly gorgeous mate rocked in his heels.

"You’re the one that called dibs."

"Rub it in, why don’t you?"

Spike winked and blew her a kiss, and they turned together at the familiar sound of rustling earth. "Maybe later, kitten," he replied as they took off together. "Duty calls."

*~*~*

"Oh, come on! Buffy and Spike do it all the time."

Kelly’s eyes narrowed. "That really doesn’t help your argument, Zack."

"You won’t hurt me, I promise."

"But last time—"

He held up a hand. "You didn’t hurt Buffy, either, and you know it."

Her eyes went wide and she gestured emphatically. "She flew across the room!" she protested. "There was…crashing! And I could’ve sworn I heard something break."

"She’s the Slayer."

"Yes, but she’s also my friend and I think I—"

"Overreacted?" Zack supplied softly. "Kelly, you’ve seen the bruises she and Spike give each other…"

*~*~*

"Oi, pet, watch the gut!"

Buffy pulled back with a wince. "Sorry!" she squeaked apologetically as her mate tumbled to the ground. Then, defensively, she added, "You got in my way!"

"I told you I had your back!"

"I didn’t know that meant literal back!" She whirled around just in time to implant her stake into another charging vampire’s chest. "Really, sweetie, you need to be more specific!"

"Must we have this argument in front of the lackeys, luv?"

Buffy bit back a grin, backhanding another charging vamp as she jabbed out a backward kick at the one approaching her rear. "You started it," she retorted cheekily, whirling around just as two vamps seized Spike by either arm and started dragging him toward the nearest mausoleum. And just like that, her good mood vanished. "Hey!" she screamed. "Hands off my husband!"

Snarly turned to Ugly. "Did she just say husband?" He didn’t wait for a response, instead turning incredulously to Spike. "Dude…you married the Slayer? Do you have, like, a death wish or somethin’?"

Spike rolled his eyes and used the distraction to his advantage, tugging quickly on either arm and smashing the two knuckleheads together. "Bloody fledglings," he growled, jumping to his feet just in time to catch the stake Buffy tossed his way. "Never know when to keep their bloody traps shut."

"Is that limited to fledglings?" Buffy asked, quirking an amused brow, though it was more a guard for self-preservation as she quickly made sure that she couldn’t smell his blood in the air and that he wasn’t limping. "‘Cause you got a mouth on you that can’t be stopped." She paused, grinned slyly and added, "And you talk a lot."

"Minx," Spike growled, tugging her close for a quick kiss. A kiss that, like all others, would have tumbled beyond the realm of control had the snarls from a new attack-wave of vamps not tickled the air again. He sighed rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Never ends, does it?"

Buffy moaned a bit when they were forced to part, but her eyes were dancing. "I’ve missed this so much," she agreed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to face the latest onslaught of fledglings. "Wonder how Zack and Kelly are handling it."

"Li’l Kel bein’ forced to fight?" Spike speculated, raising the stake in his hand. "Now that I’d pay to see."

*~*~*

"Come on, Kelly, hit me!"

Kelly frowned, wondering for the millionth time in the last five minutes how on earth Zack had managed to talk her into this. Perhaps it was the baby-pout she couldn’t refuse. Perhaps it was his reasoning that Buffy and Spike were doing the same thing right now or, more likely, had progressed to the part in their sparring ritual where they were so turned on by each other that they’d sneaked into a mausoleum for a quickie. Either way, he was definitely right about one thing: she needed to beat the day back. She needed to acquire some release in some fashion, and this was the best way to do it. The cemetery was deader than dead and Zack wouldn’t let her hurt him.

He better not, anyway.

"I mean it, Kelly, fight me! Fight me, goddammit, fight meeee!"

"Okay!" she screamed, more to get him to shut up than out of conviction. "Here it comes!"

In actuality, the punch she landed him with likely wasn’t more than he got from Spike on a regular basis. The two had a knack for beating the crap out of each other without rhyme or reason, and likely during one of their more unsuccessful schemes that she didn’t want to know about. However, watching her husband soar through the air and crash into a large red oak was not exactly her idea of fun, especially knowing that she held the hand that had dealt that card.

"Zack, oh my God! Are you all right?"

Zack groaned, shook his head, and glanced up.

Then smiled.

"Hell yeah!" he exclaimed happily, the bones in his face shifting. "You’re gonna pay for that, missy!"

Kelly arched a brow, though she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

Tonight had the makings of a good one, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

While he knew the man was a methodical genius, sometimes watching Wesley research was only slightly preferable to watching paint dry. The day had been a bust, topped off with Fred bursting into the hotel around the lunch-hour, flushed and panicked and seemingly on the cusp of a great announcement. The announcement turned out to be that the neighborhood Starbucks was currently out of mocha mix, so they’d have to go to the one on the other side of town if Cordelia got a craving.

That was the big excitement of the day. No mocha mix. There was nothing else. No demons to slay. No crises to avert. Nothing new on the Patriarch.

And something told Wright that Wesley’s method of researching old Los Angeles families wasn’t going to get them anywhere, especially since they didn’t know what they were looking for.

"This is a bust," he said, a long sigh rolling off his shoulders. "You know that, right?"

"It has come to my attention," Wesley admitted, not drawing his eyes away from the headstone he was studying. "But until you offer a better suggestion…"

"Anything is better than hanging out all night in the cemetery, Wes," Wright replied. "And you know how wild I’m not about leaving Cordy alone for long periods."

"She has Fred and Gunn."

"She also has the appetite of a Schlaufner demon and has probably spent the past three hours barking out dinner orders."

Wesley rumbled in amusement but didn’t reply. He didn’t get a chance. Before either he or Wright could budge, the air was split apart by the shrill of a woman’s scream. A sound both men knew all too well. And instantly, they were up in arms, current mind-numbingly tedious task forgotten.

"Dear God," Wright moaned, rolling his eyes as he swung his crossbow off his back and into his waiting arms. "When will women learn not to talk midnight strolls through the local cemetery?"

"I still have yet to see the appeal," Wesley agreed, drawing a long blade out of his weapons pack. "Perhaps if we didn’t consider this an extension of the office…"

"Yeah, Wes, that’s it. Our line of work explains why we don’t frequent the graveyard for fun." Wright snickered and shook his head, breaking off in a run. There was another scream, followed what sounded like a feminine laugh. Screams and laughter all in the same mix? Either someone was fucking with him or too delusional to realize that vampires weren’t kidding when they said all they wanted was a love bite.

He didn’t know, and the next minute, he didn’t care. The eyes didn’t lie. A vampire was attacking a petite brunette, and from the looks of things, not doing a very good job of it. Didn’t matter, either way. A vamp was a vamp, no matter how you sliced it. And here in a second, there’d be one less vamp.

"Okay, I gotta shot," Wright said, raising the crossbow. "And I’m taking it."

*~*~*

Of all the ways Zack had envisioned the evening unfolding, getting a shoulder-full of crossbow-arrow hadn’t made the cut. He had no clue what happened: one second, he was trying to coax Kelly into taking another shot, and the next, he was on the ground, pain exploding through his chest and back. His wife’s playful screams turned into real screams of real terror.

"Oh my GOD!"

The sound of her voice was the one thing at that moment that could rile him to his feet. Not that it did any good. He glanced up just in time to make out the rough shape of the crossbow before it smacked him upside the chin, the wielder kicking him once in the gut to knock him over.

"Hungry, are you?" an unfamiliar voice demanded. "You get your kicks off hunting women in graveyards?"

"Oh dear," a strangely familiar-yet-not British voice chimed in. "You’ve made him angry. It’s nothing personal; this sort of thing just upsets him."

"Look, buddy!" Zack protested, desperately grasping for the upper-hand. The crossbow-happy bastard was too quick for him—and too anticipatory of any move. "I don’t know what your problem is. My wife and I—"

There was an incredulous laugh at that. "Oh, your wife, is it?" The man smashed the crossbow upside his head, then turned to Kelly, who was torn between paralyzed-with-fear and quivering-with-rage.

Perhaps this would be a good thing in the end, Zack reflected. Perhaps this would teach Kelly that coping with one’s inner demon had its pluses.

"Look lady," the man said, now completely astride Zack’s chest, holding his neck down with annoying fortitude and seemingly unbothered by the vampire’s struggles. "I know it’s hard to lose a loved one. Been there, done that. But this guy…" He turned back to Zack, lips twisting upward in a sadistic smile. "This guy…he ain’t your husband. He ain’t anything anymore."

"He is so!" Kelly protested weakly. "He—"

"You think these bumpies are just a side-effect of being buried alive, then?" the man demanded, reaching into his coat pocket with his free hand and withdrawing a stake. "Trust me," he continued, pressing the pointy end to Zack’s chest. And for a minute, Zack felt a true rush of fear. "It might not seem so now, but this is for the—"

The familiar, ferocious growl of his sire ripped through the night air, and in a blink, the man was gone and Buffy was at his side, gingerly helping him to his feet.

"Shoulder! Shoulder!" Zack whispered furiously, motioning to the arrow. "Mind-numbing-pain!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don’t be such a baby."

"What took you so long?"

"To come and save your ass from a human vamp hunter? Oh, I dunno. Maybe the legions of fledglings that have been tailing us for the past hour?"

Zack scowled at her. "Don’t lie to me."

"What?"

"It’s been deader than _us_ out here and _you know it_." He gestured to the man, whom Spike currently had in a gridlock. "Mr. Trigger-Happy is the only action we’ve had all night."

Buffy made a face and rubbed her sore shoulder. "That’s not funny."

"Do you hear me laughing?"

Meanwhile, Spike was getting angry. Even angrier than he’d been the second he’d felt someone had attacked his childe. The human git he was wrestling needed to be killed, but knowing Buffy, she’d prefer the diplomatic routine. Even if sodding demon hunters like this bloke were the sort he knew from experience couldn’t be reasoned with. "‘S not nice to point dangerous weapons at strangers," he growled into the human’s ear. "I think you owe m’boy an apology."

"I’m sorry you feel that way," the human retorted.

The man’s companion, whom had silently observed the whole thing in what appeared to be frozen astonishment, finally spoke up, "Ummm…Zack?"

"What?" the hunter demanded.

"What?" Zack demanded at the same time.

"All right," the hunter growled, surprising the hell out of Spike by flipping him onto his back. It wasn’t often—or ever—that he met a human who possessed that sort of strength while simultaneously knowing how to use it. And the next thing he knew, he was staring at the business end of a stake…

And into a pair of hauntingly familiar eyes. Familiar eyes that widened with recognition the minute they clashed with his. Familiar eyes attached to a familiar face. A face Spike hadn’t seen in years—hadn’t thought of in years—and in that blink, a forgotten window in his mind blew open and a sea of black spots he hadn’t known were black started to clear. The ground hummed beneath his body, his mind snapping into two clean halves.

"…Zangy?" he gasped.

Zack Wright stood poised over him, panting hard, his eyes so wide it was a miracle they didn’t pop out. "Spike."

"What?" Zack demanded from the sidelines. "What?"

Both men ignored him. Slowly, Wright backed up, lowering the stake completely. Then he extended a hand and helped Spike to his feet.

"What…the…hell?"

Buffy elbowed Zack hard in the ribs. "Shut up," she snapped, trembling so hard the ground nearly quaked beneath her feet, her eyes filled with tears.

For whatever reason, that much didn’t resonate with Zack. "That asshole just tried to kill me!"

Zack’s protests went ignored. Spike barely heard him at all. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the man who had changed his life. The man whose friendship had saved him in the midst of utter despair. The man who was responsible for how happy he was today—for the love he had with Buffy, and the bliss that consumed his every wake. Zack Wright: Demon Hunter. Zack Wright: Friend. Zack Wright…

Black spot. A big fucking black spot. A man whose face time had forgotten. A man whose face erased what was known and replaced it with what was. In a blink—in a sodding blink—everything that Spike had known for the better part of the past decade had vanished. Hell, things he’d thought he’d known for nearly fifteen years were gone, replaced now with a cold sense of aching confusion and vulnerability.

"Zangy," he said again, his voice hoarse. "My God…"

"What?" Zack demanded. "What?"

They ignored him. "I know," Wright agreed shakily. "I know."

"I…"

"Zack," Buffy said suddenly, tearing away from Zack’s side which did little more than perplex him. "Oh my God."

Zack just blinked dumbly. "Ummm," he said slowly. "Am I missing something?"

"Obviously we both are," Kelly murmured, though she was more fascinated than put out. "They know each other."

"That’s just great. In the meantime, I have this arrow sticking out of my shoulder. Does anyone care about that?"

Apparently not, as no one responded to him. Spike and Wright couldn’t stop staring at each other.

"I don’—"

"Me either," Wright said, casting a shaky hand through his short hair. Then he turned to Buffy and nodded, forcing a smile to his lips. "Buffy…it’s…"

"My God, Zack!" She launched herself into his arms, tugging him down for what looked to be a massive hug. "I…my mind…it’s all—"

Wright’s eyes flickered upward to Spike’s, who was blinking dazedly and shaking his head. "I know," he murmured. "And so say all of us."

Zack shifted uncomfortably. "Okay…there is something seriously wrong here," he whispered to Kelly. "Buffy just threw herself at another man and Spike’s—"

"Shhh!" she hissed.

He pouted. "Does anyone care about my shoulder?"

Again he received no response.

Buffy awkwardly extracted herself from Wright’s embrace. "Sorry about that," she said. "I…I just…" She glanced to Spike, who immediately seized her hand and squeezed with reassurance he didn’t feel. "I’m so confused. I…we…it wasn’t real, was it? None of it…none of…" She turned to Spike fully when she sensed she was about to lose control; control was something Buffy couldn’t stand to be without, especially in front of friends. Spike was the only one with the privy to see her when the world bogged her down too much. And before she knew what was happening, she’d curled herself into his side to guard her emotions until she could sit down and reconcile all that was racing through her mind.

"Me too, Buff," Wright replied, attempting to smile. "I…" He turned and shook his head, finally glancing in Zack and Kelly’s dumbfounded direction. "Are those two yours?"

Spike nodded stiffly. "Yeah," he replied. "They’re souled, mate. An’—"

Wright held up a hand. "Okay."

"Zangy—I…" He broke off then, shooting a confused look to Zack then back to Wright. "Zangy an’…an’ Zangy…"

Zack froze. "What?"

"Zangy…this is…Zangy." He winced at the glare on Zack’s face—the barely muted outrage that screamed betrayal at something he didn’t even remember. There were two of them—two men named Zack. Two Zangy’s. Only he didn’t remember them apart. He remembered his life in New York and everything that had happened before that. He remembered meeting Zack during a night most of them wanted to forget. But separately, there existed a world otherwise unconnected to everything he’d built his life around. A world where Buffy had never jumped from the Tower. A world where they hadn’t abused each other viciously for a year. A world where he had never attempted to rape her. A world where he’d never sought a soul. And everything that followed—the three years he spent in England as the curator of the library. The death of Buffy at the hands of a newly risen Master. The emergence of his love as a soulless killing machine—one he’d traded his soul to silence forever. All of that was gone in a blink, relegated instantly in his mind—in his heart-of-heart’s—as impossible. As an obvious lie he should never have trusted as reality.

The Master hadn’t sired Buffy. _He_ had.

In the bowels of Wolfram and Hart.

After she’d been brutalized by Angelus. Tortured. Raped. Killed.

And Zangy—Zack Wright—was the reason she was alive today. The reason she stood at his side. The light of his bloody unlife, and he’d spent the past god-knows-how-many years ignorant of the man to which he owed everything.

And now there were two. Two people in the world who claimed status as his best friend, aside from the woman at his side. Two men named Zack. Two men he called Zangy. Two men that hadn’t existed apart from each other.

Zack already looked betrayed, and Spike didn’t blame him. But God, how could he begin to explain this? How, when he didn’t know himself?

"He’s Zangy?" Wright demanded incredulously, pointing at Zack. "I thought I was Zangy."

"No, I’m Zangy!" Zack protested.

"Yes," Spike replied hoarsely, comforted by Buffy’s hand in his. "Yes…that’s right."

"Who’s right?" Zack demanded.

"You’re Zangy…so’s he." He shuddered and turned away before Zack could start screaming in protest.

Thankfully, Wright was dazed enough to let it slide. "We should get to the Hyperion," he said sharply. "There’s something—"

Buffy and Spike nodded before he could complete the pitch. There was no need to advertise the selling-points. They were sold.

Something was going on. Something huge.

Spike turned to Wesley with a half smile, jutting his chin in acknowledgment. "‘Lo Wes," he said.

The former Watcher nodded. "Spike."

"Looks like we got ourselves a situation."

The confusion in Wesley’s eyes was encouraging—at least it appeared epidemic. At least it wasn’t just Buffy, Wright, and himself.

Their history was false. Everything about the tangible world around them was false. Was his friendship with Zack false as well? What could he trust anymore, if anything?

Spike fell silent at that, retreating far within himself. He took Buffy with him.

She was the only one he could trust.

*~*~*

As a mother sensing the world was coming off its foundation, Kelly wanted nothing more than to have her children by her side. Though she trusted Melody with her life, there was nothing more primal to a mother than the urge to have her children in her eyesight. That and knowing her William like she did, he would want a familiar adult within a few short hours.

But mostly it was because the world was coming off its foundation.

Melody surprisingly knew exactly where the Hyperion was located. It was only a few blocks away from Morris Industries. She didn’t ask any questions as to why she was to drop her grandchildren off at a long-abandoned hotel and home of an investigation agency, but she did her part. Kissing Rosie and William goodnight as Kelly waited at the door, she promised that it would be far from the last time they played with their Nana Morris.

"I’ll see you guys before the weekend!" She cheerfully called as Kelly led the children inside the Hyperion’s doors.

Walking inside was like walking into a completely different atmosphere. The lobby was gathering with curious and confused faces. As Kelly sat down in a comfy chair and gathered the kids into her lap, she watched the crowd grow even larger. At one point a younger woman ran in the room and over to the platinum vampire calling "Uncle Spike!" While Rosie and William looked on in confusion, Spike was too dazed to even lift his arms up to reciprocate.

Silence filled the room as people took their seats. One sofa was occupied by Zack Wright on one end and Zack Morris on the other. Spike and Buffy sat catatonically curled up next to each other in the middle. Other seats were occupied by what Kelly could only presume were several key employees and friends of Wright Investigations.

The silence dragged on as no one seemed to have the courage to speak. In the end, Zack Morris, confused and still slightly hurt about the brief events in the cemetery, broke the awkward tension. "So…who wants to start explaining the complete lack of originality in the nick-name department?"

Kelly threw a hard glance in her husband’s direction. "Fine," he said throwing his hands in the air. "If not that then how about we talk about why we’re now starting the policy of ‘hug our attempted murderers’?"

Wright merely chuckled lowly. "Trust me. I don’t attempt. If I shot to kill, you’d be dust right now."

"Uh huh," Morris said patronizingly. "So says the man who stole my nickname."

"Puh-lease," Wright said jumping up off of the sofa. He ignored the fact that his insults were channeling Cordelia and continued on. "Look, kid. I don’t even know who you are, but I know that I’ve been Zangy a helluva lot longer than you have."

"Well, if you were so special how come in the nine years I’ve been Zangy, who is Spike’s _best friend_ might I mention, you’ve never once came up?" The smug look on Morris’ face was quickly replaced with a confused frown as Spike and Buffy quickly and quietly strode upstairs and out of sight. Their departure was followed by silence and the distant slamming of a door.

"Looks like you’ve gone and done it," Wright grumbled walking over to the front counter to find a distraction. "Looks like they really want your friendship now."

Fred, who had been watching the scene from one of the many chairs, looked over at her fiancé with bewilderment. "I’m so confused. What’s going on?"

"Something’s wrong," Kelly said, her voice hollow as her eyes trailed up the stairs Spike and Buffy just traveled. "Everything’s wrong."

Morris got out of his seat to follow his current rival. "What have you done to them?"

"Me?" Wright whirled around outraged. "I’m standing here wondering how the fuck my best friend could just disappear out of my life for nearly a decade and I couldn’t even recognize him when I first saw him?"

"Zack," Cordy said walking over to the father of her baby.

"What?" Two dirty blonde men snapped back in frustration.

Cordy’s eyes went wide more with shock than with annoyance. "Okay…That’s just weird. Not only are you two Zangy, but apparently are both Zacks and you both talk in unison."

"Do not!" They scoffed at once before continuing to glare at one another.

"You were the pretty lady from this afternoon," Rosie commented to Fred as the frustration went on.

"You’ve met?" Wesley asked Fred in surprise.

It surprisingly took a few minutes for events to register in Fred’s mind. "No…but yes." She looked up at Wes in shock. "This afternoon when I went out looking for another Starbuck’s. Spike and Buffy were out with…" Her eyes traveled to the little girl for help.

"Rosie," the child offered with patient eyes. "You talked to me and Uncle Spike and Aunt Buffy."

"You saw them this afternoon and didn’t say anything?" a dark man in the corner asked. "Why?"

"I don’t know why, Gunn." Now Fred began to panic. "I was going to…but the further I walked away from them, the less I remembered. By the time I got home I forgot I had even seen anyone this afternoon. Until I saw Rosie just now."

Wesley brought a hand up to rub his eyes. "This just isn’t making any sense. You’re forgetting seeing Spike and Buffy and apparently Spike and Buffy have forgotten Zack and us."

"But…you were at Hogwarts with us just a couple years ago," Kelly pointed out. "Remember the Minstrel Show?"

"The what?" Gunn asked as the British man’s face grew pale.

"I…Well that was…"

"We still have the tape of the performance at the house back in New York." Kelly turned to Fred. "You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Wesley perform ballet."

Before the questioning looks around the room could turn to literal questions, Wes intervened. "Cordelia was there as well."

Cordy shrugged. "What? I didn’t dance."

Wright looked at the two of them with hurtful resentment. "When you guys went off to England you said nothing about Spike and Buffy being there. All you mentioned was Angelus and apocalypse."

The accused duo stared back at one another. It never occurred to them before why they wouldn’t have mentioned things to Zack. It seemed beyond silly to suggest that news about his one-time closest friend and his wife would seem unimportant, but in actuality for some strange reason it never occurred to either Wes or Cordelia to mention it. In fact, for the briefest of periods there in the heart of England, they had forgotten that Zack Wright had even existed. Instead…a strange and ridiculous series of past events had been imagined—memories of towers, rape, souls lost and gained and a death by The Master.

"Something’s wrong," Cordy said with a blink.

"Everything’s wrong," Wesley agreed.

Uneasy silence again followed as the room looked to one another in the hope that answers would magically reveal themselves. And once again Zack Morris was the one to break under pressure. "I swear to God, if she doesn’t stop glaring at me, I’m going to eat her."

Nikki used the acknowledgement to voice her opinion on the matter. "I thought that we agreed that having vampires in the building was against safety protocol. Isn’t that why we insisted Angel couldn’t be here even with a soul? He was too much of a liability."

"And a murderer," Wright growled.

"Don’t forget the most annoying sodding poof to ever grace the planet," Morris snarled, oblivious to how humorous Spike’s British slang was coming out of his purely American mouth.

"Anyways," Nikki continued. "It was agreed that we wouldn’t allow vampires here. Souled or not."

"Look." Zack was getting pissed. The feeling of helplessness and confusion was driving him out of his mind. "Why don’t you take a custard filled doughnut and shove it up your ass."

"That was you, this morning!" Fred said realizing where she’d seen him and the little boy before. Though there was no denying there was more in common between the two Zangys than their names.

There was a remarkable, yet odd physical resemblance between the two Zacks. Both had similar body builds and similar facial structures—from their chins to their noses to their eyes. All that seemed to differ between the two besides pigmentation was that one kept themselves a little cleaner shaven and looked a few years older. And there seemed to different shadows of dark past memories clouding their hazel eyes.

Cordy knew how Nikki would never stop and she also knew that any friend of Spike’s had a temper. She took matters into her own hands and turned to Kelly. "Where are you guys staying?"

Kelly stared down at her children in her arms—William dozing and Rosie looking on with hooded eyes. "A place called the _Shady Inn_ , I guess."

"The _Shady Inn_?" Gunn’s eyes grew wide. "That place is a crack-house where junkies go to score black magic!"

Kelly shrugged helplessly. "Apparently there’s some sort of convention in town and all of the good rooms were booked. We tried last night and we going to try again today but things…" Her mind flooded with all of the events of the day and she tried to hold back her tears. "Happened."

"Well," Cordy said getting up and taking charge. She knew at this point even Nikki couldn’t argue with her. She was pregnant, hormonal and ready to do something. "You’re staying here tonight."

Kelly looked at the commanding brunette in awe. She honestly didn’t remember much about Cordy from their time at Hogwarts, but the stories that Buffy had mentioned of the past depicted a woman far less compassionate. "Are you sure? With everything that’s happening—"

"It means we need to stick together until we figure out what’s going on."

The women shared a silent moment of understanding before Kelly nodded. "Just let me go get the bags out of the car."

Cordy flipped a hand and tossed a gaze over her shoulder, "Zack, go get the bags."

"Okay," two men grumbled in unison before stopping to look at one another in silent contempt.

The pregnant brunette turned to the other mother in disbelief. "They’re just weird."

Kelly nodded as she tried to slowly adjust herself out from under her children. "And have you noticed it’s not only the slight personality difference—well, slight when my husband isn’t being whiny."

"Hey!" Morris pouted.

Kelly continued as if her point hadn’t been proven. "But they really do look a lot alike."

"If I didn’t know better," Cordy commented. "I’d swear they were related."

The entire room paused to agree. All expect the two in question. "We do not look alike," Wright scoffed in indignation. 

"My God? Seriously?" Morris stammered. "In my worst nightmares, I would never look like him!" He struggled for a moment before declaring, "Look at his nose! It’s huge!"

Wright nearly snorted. "And his eyes! They’re so close together that I think he may have a disability!"

Morris’ rage had him on the verge of busting out in game face. "Why you big nosed—"

"Beady eyes!"

The occupants of the room looked on at the childish displays coming from both men. The insanity of insults continued on for nearly five minutes until maturity stepped up to the plate. "It’s okay. We’ll go get the bags." And Cordy and Kelly walked out the door.

That seemed the major ending of the night. After Zack, Kelly and the kids were shown to rooms, it seemed everyone wanted to go off and process the day’s events in solitude for awhile.

As daylight emerged, understanding seemed to darken. The only thing known was that neither Spike or Buffy were going to shed light on the situation—and the silent fear was that it was because they were as confused as everyone else.


	5. Chapter 5

Hot tempers had everyone retreating into their respective corners rather quickly. There was no sense trying to get Zack Wright and Zack Morris to sit down together—the latter was still nursing an increasingly bruised ego at Spike’s apparent dismissal of originality. For keeping something like Zack Wright a secret. Even though he sensed a great deal of confusion where the demon hunter was concerned, his primary focus remained with his so-called best friend and his inability to reconcile how something like this could have been kept from him.

As a result, Zack’s temper was so foul that Kelly had essentially sent him to time-out. Where she didn’t understand what was going on anymore than he did, she had enough calm logic to conclude whatever was happening wasn’t Spike’s fault. Zack’s wounded pride had yet to soften, thus the blinders remain indefinitely in place and he became incredibly hot-tempered whenever anyone suggested that Spike hadn’t done anything to deserve a cold shoulder.

Not that Spike was around to be offended by the cold shoulder. He and Buffy had yet to surface since the silent retreat to what had once been their room.

It was just as well that Morris kept to himself. Zack Wright wasn’t in a particularly good mood, either, but where Morris was just indignant, Wright had moved on to the likelihood of magical tampering. There was no other explanation for the perpetual black spot in his memory. That morning, he’d awoken with no memory of Spike or Buffy, or the hell they’d all been through together. So now in the midst of an unfolding prophecy, he had to contend with the aftermath of the most potent memory spell he’d been placed under.

Not that he had much experience with memory spells, but in this line of work, there had been a fluke or two.

As a result, no one was thinking about the Patriarch.

No one except Fred. While Fred was similarly struggling to reconcile the uncovered memories, the black spot in her mind wasn’t nearly as heavy as in the minds of others. Her time with Spike and Buffy, even with her brain clearing, was still rather foggy. After all, during the time that Spike and Wright had forged their friendship, Fred had lived in the cold and always terrifying seclusion of a hell-dimension cave. She hadn’t even known Wright until he and the others had rescued her. Until after Buffy had been successfully rescued from Wolfram and Hart. Until after Spike had been forced to sire her. No, Fred’s memories of Spike and Buffy were largely limited to the first few weeks of reclamation to civilized life. Then they’d disappeared, and had taken Fred’s memories with them. And she hadn’t had reason to give it any thought. She’d eventually recovered from the horrors of Pylea, fallen madly in love with Wesley, and made extreme efforts to relegate the past as an intensely long and horrific nightmare.

Even with her memory restored, Fred couldn’t remember why Spike and Buffy had left in the first place. And while the blank spot was definitely panic-worthy, she had her faculties enough about her to recognize the value of at least one level head. She’d never seen Wright shut down completely. She’d never seen Cordelia struck speechless. She’d never seen Gunn on the verge of losing his cool. She’d never seen Wesley look so haunted.

Everyone had shut down. There wasn’t anyone to turn to right now; not her colleagues, not her fiancé, and definitely not Spike and Buffy. She couldn’t fathom bothering Spike and Buffy; they were mutually just a hair shy of slipping entirely catatonic. And the others—the people she didn’t know—well, they weren’t about to trust their best friends, much less someone they didn’t know.

And while all of this was more than understandable, the world hadn’t stopped just because Wright and Pryce Investigations had hit a bump in the road. The apocalypse wasn’t about to take a break, and the Patriarch wasn’t going to put its ascension on hold so the cavalry could get their act together.

Unfortunately, scientific calculations were only going to get her so far. She needed Wesley and Wright to weigh in. They were her go-to guys; Wesley with his prophecy and big sexy brains, and Wright with his know-how. For now, everyone needed to push the petty squabbling aside and focus on the problem at hand.

One of the problems, at least. The problem that didn’t require upsetting anyone. The problem that didn’t require addressing the chunks of recently-restored memory. The problem that wasn’t drenched in indignation because one was the owner of a hand-me-down nickname.

"Zack!" Fred called, skipping into the eerily vacant lobby. In all her years here, the acoustics in the Hyperion had never allotted for such consuming silence. She was very much looking forward to things getting back to normal. "Are you down here?"

"In the kitchen!" came the reply.

Fred started in one direction, then frowned and turned on her heel. Shortly after Cordelia fell pregnant, Wright had installed a kitchen right near his office so he’d always have something edible on hand for his not-wife. Months had passed, and she still wasn’t used to it.

"There’s nothing in the fridge," Zack grumbled as she rounded the corner, her nose buried in an ancient text. "Why is there nothing in the fridge?"

"What? Oh, Cordelia probably ate it all."

"You guys need to get some blood."

Fred nodded absently. "Yeah, with Spike and the others staying here, we should. I’ll have Gunn go out tomorrow." She shifted the ancient volume in her arms. "I know everyone’s in a bad place right now, but we really need to talk about the Patriarch."

"What?"

"According to my calculations, we have about…" She paused to locate her findings. "…two hundred hours and some change before the Patriarch makes his first move. We need—" She froze, words hanging off her lips as her eyes finally traveled upward and locked gazes with the man standing dumbfounded in the open refrigerator door. "Oh…hi."

Zack Morris grinned wryly and offered a half-wave. "Hi."

"I—sorry, you just sounded exactly like Zack."

He frowned. "I better. I am Zack."

Fred waved a nervous, dismissive hand. So much for avoiding confrontation. "No—I mean, wrong Zack. The other Zack. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him around, have you?"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. The easy humor in Morris’s eyes blinked away, a grim expression of irritation sinking in. "The wrong Zack?" he repeated indignantly. "I’ll have you know—"

"Oh, let off," Wright growled as he stomped into the kitchen, placing a reassuring hand on Fred’s shoulder. "You’re pathetic…picking on Fred over semantics."

Morris stuck his nose up. "I could be the right Zack."

"Yes," Fred said quickly, giggling nervously. "But you’re not Zack _Wright_." She paused and winced when she became the target of two non-amused stares. "I’ll just…Wesley. I think I hear…Wesley." 

Wright held her under a glare for a long beat before finally caving, breaking into a large, easy smile that only seemed to befoul Morris’s mood even more.

"Yeah," Morris drawled, "why don’t you do that?"

"Your beef’s with me, Junior," Wright snapped defensively, his hand squeezing Fred’s shoulder in reassurance. "Leave Fred out of this."

"Consider Fred left out," Fred quipped quickly, making herself scarce.

Wright and Morris barely noted her absence. They were too busy glaring at each other.

"Look," Wright said shortly. "I don’t mind you being an ass to me. While you are very obviously a vampire and I am very obviously a vampire hunter, I can understand some residual hard feelings. I did, after all, try to kill you. But that’s where it ends…you hear me, sonny? I hear you mouthing off one of my colleagues again, and I swear, I think that memory spell might just force me to forget that you have a soul."

Morris’s eyes flashed. "Just try it."

"You think I wouldn’t?"

"No, I think you would. And I think the result would be intensely funny." He sneered contemptuously, shaking his head. "And quit this shit about a memory spell. Where do you get off—"

Wright’s eyes went wide. "You really think it could be anything but a memory spell?"

"I think whenever things go wrong, blaming magic is about the weakest out."

"So you think Spike willfully just forgot to mention me, forgot about what happened to Buffy, forgot what he went through to get her back, forgot—"

"Get her back?" Morris repeated. "Get her back from what? Buffy and Spike have been together as long as I’ve known them, and they were together for several years before that. I don’t—"

"Yes…ever since we pulled her out of Wolfram and Hart," Wright agreed, arching a skeptical brow.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I was just saying, I’ve only known them since what happened after Spike went to get a soul."

Wright blinked. "Have you been snacking on a dope-fiend, or are you naturally this stupid?"

"Well, look who doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does."

"What on God’s green earth would ever make Spike seek out a soul?"

"Spike tried to rape Buffy. This is common knowledge, oh Best Friend of Spike," Zack barked. Then he paused, shifting his weight uneasily from side to side. "Not that I could ever make heads or tails of that, but there it is."

Wright stared at him. Hard. "Okay," he said shortly. "Now I know you’ve been drinking spiked blood. I know that man. He would never—"

"He would never now. Now that Buffy’s not wallowing in despair over being yanked out of Heaven."

_"What?"_

"Oh, so you don’t know about that, either?" Morris squealed excitedly. "Some best friend you are."

"When was Buffy ever in Heaven?"

"After she jumped off the Tower."

Wright blinked again. "What tower? Buffy was sired back in 2000 in the dungeon at Wolfram and Hart. There wasn’t enough time to jump off a tower or be in Heaven. She was dead. Spike and I found her. I made Spike sire her before he broke completely, and the last thing I know they were leaving for Washington DC to try and stop the commission of another branch of Wolfram and Hart…and then there’s nothing." He frowned, clearly disturbed by that knowledge. "Nothing at all."

There was a long pause. The steadfast conviction in Morris’s eyes had wavered a bit, giving way to insecurity. "Buffy wasn’t sired by Spike," he objected softly.

"Ummm…were you there?"

"No, she was already—"

"Yeah, I know you weren’t there, Junior, because I was. I was there. I made Spike sire her. I didn’t even give him a fucking option—I shot him, sliced his throat, and made her drink." Wright paused with a hard shudder, his eyes distancing. For a minute—for a hair of a minute—he found himself standing again in the dank bowels of that awful building, watching his friend crumble away as he had so many years before. His friend who was, against all odds, a soulless vampire. His friend who had sacrificed everything to save a woman he’d thought would never love him. And because of what Wesley had told him—because he knew Buffy’s humanity would not be compromised—he’d crossed the ultimate threshold. He’d made Spike give Buffy his blood. He’d made Spike make her like him.

"Buffy was sired by the Master," Morris said, though he didn’t sound like he believed it. "Spike told me…everything. He told me…and then she lost her soul and he gave his up—"

"Slayers can’t lose their souls."

"Yes they can!"

"No, they can’t. Slayers’ power comes from their souls. Demon or not…look, if you need proof, just open a fucking book. I don’t have time to try to convince you. My friend’s in pain, and maybe if you stopped being so selfish, you’d be able to see that."

"Your _friend_ hasn’t mentioned you once in the nine years I’ve known him. And he gave away your nickname."

Wright arched a brow. "To a kid named Zack. My oh my, yes, I can see where that should bother me. But seeing as our minds were fucked with by black magic, I’m gonna take it as a compliment. See…it just means a part of him remembered me all along. He’s never had any use for you."

Morris growled loudly then, his facial bones shifting as his fangs descended. "I’ve always wondered if vampire hunters’ blood is anything special," he barked. "I’m guessing…no. But hey—it pays to find out, right?"

For his part, Wright didn’t even blink. Didn’t budge. Didn’t do anything to betray an ounce of nervousness.

In fact, all he did was laugh.

"Oh sweetie," he drawled, his voice hitting a falsetto. "You know I hate it when we quarrel."

"Shut _up!"_

"No, come on. If you wanna piece, come and try to take it." The smile on Wright’s face would have terrified the devil, and Morris hated it that his confidence faltered. Moreover, he hated it that his faltering confidence was so damn obvious. There wasn’t a stake visible on Wright’s person, but for some reason, Morris knew that made little difference. If Wright wanted him dead, he’d be dead.

"Thatta boy," Wright commended when Morris’s fangs receded. "Can’t win ‘em all, eh?"

There was a retort waiting on Zack’s lips—he was sure of it. He knew he had his faculties enough about him to put the confident bastard in place. Even if he couldn’t just rip his throat out like he wanted. The guy was still human—still flesh and blood—and it’d hurt Spike.

No matter how much Spike had hurt him.

But just because he couldn’t kill the prick didn’t mean he had to coddle him with words. Therefore, Zack knew he’d been about to say something witty and brilliant—something that would have sent Wright crying for his mommy—but he never got the chance. A familiar stirring in his gut alerted him to the presence of his sire and his sire’s mate, and since it’d been nearly a day since anyone had seen hair or hide of either of them, the stirring about knocked him over.

He knew the minute he saw their faces—identically blank and virtually lifeless—that he should handle the situation delicately.

"‘Bout time," he snapped. "So good of you to grace the living."

Wright tossed him an angry glare.

"…metaphorically speaking," Morris concluded.

Spike and Buffy stopped in unison and glanced up. They stared at him for a minute, then turned to the fridge.

"Sorry," Wright said softly, the dichotomy in his demeanor doing little more than pissing Zack off even more than he thought possible. "We’re gonna send Gunn and Nikki out on a blood run. Is there anything you guys need?"

There was a long pause; Spike turned to Buffy and squeezed her hand. She shook her head. No, there was nothing they needed. Just blood. Just blood, each other, and an empty room. And if someone were to hand them a thousand years of solitude, they wouldn’t sneeze on the offer.

"I’ll have Fred bring it up to you guys."

While gratitude shone behind their eyes, neither one said a damn word. They merely looked at him a minute longer, then turned together to head back upstairs.

"Oh, for God’s sake," Zack said loudly, earning yet another death-glare from Wright. "So is that how it’s gonna be, Spike? You’ve taken to ignoring me, too? Might as well, I guess, since your bestest buddy here has everything under control. I have a right mind to—"

The air filled with an angry snarl; the next thing anyone knew, Buffy’s fangs were drawn and her eyes had flashed yellow, and she had Zack pinned to the wall by the throat. There was no recognition in her gaze. Nothing to save his life if he made a move or a sound she didn’t like. And when he glanced over to Spike for help—for assurance—for anything—there was nothing. Nothing but pride in his mate. Nothing that would prevent Zack’s dust from hitting the ground.

Wright, for his part, just crossed his arms and tsked. "Man," he said softly. "I’d really hate to be in your shoes right now."

It seemed to last forever. The black hatred in Buffy’s eyes—something beyond human, something he’d never seen or touched before—and the seconds between him and death. In reality, only a few cold minutes passed. Spike eventually seemed to snap out of whatever pride-stricken daze he was in and gained enough recognition to step forward and gently run his hand down Buffy’s arm. And that much was enough to convince her not to add Zack to the pollen count. She released him abruptly; her hand already in Spike’s when he crashed to the floor. And that was that; they retreated without making a sound. Without tossing him a glance. Without looking back.

"Just an observation," Wright said, ruffling his hair as he moved to cross into the lobby. "You might wanna work on your people skills."

"What…the…hell…?"

Wright just laughed and shook his head. "Are you sure you’re a vampire, ‘cause this is just getting sad." He turned and pointed to the upper level, indicative of where Buffy and Spike had disappeared. "You don’t fuck with mated vamps, especially when they’re not all there. And in case you hadn’t noticed, sonny, they’re not. Something tells me with as much fun as this is for the rest of us, they got the fully whammy instead of just a half. If you cared for them at all, you’d back the fuck off until they’re ready to talk to you again." He paused then and pretended to think. "Or not, ‘cause that was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all day."

Zack didn’t move; not when Wright turned again and left him. Not when Gunn came in announcing a special blood delivery. Not even when Rosie, followed by Kelly with an armful of William in tow, came down the stairs to see if any progress had been made.

He just sat where Buffy had left him, dumbfounded.

Things sure as hell better clear up soon.

*~*~*

Fear and uncertainty often led people to try as hard and as long as possible to live in denial. This mindset caused most everyone at the Hyperion to try and establish their regular routines and ignore the dark forces currently at play.

Fred did so by finding a room to isolate herself in to do as much book research on the Patriarch as possible. She hoped that after combing over the same texts that informed them of the Patriarch’s arrival, she could find more clues as to who and what his plans were.

Zack Wright, Wesley and Gunn decided to take a different approach. They figured that with apocalypse on the horizon there was information out there at one of the usual suspects of alleyways, tunnels and off-the-street bars that would have a demon or crony with some idea about what the Patriarch was up to.

Meanwhile, Kelly quickly learned that her children were not going to be satisfied pent up in a place with so much tension. Rosie especially could sense the unease, but even William was more hesitant than usual. After a pleasant breakfast with Rosalie Wright, Kelly found a new friend for her and the kids. They decided to try out the mall and see if they could escape some of the anxiety while mutually trying to fill each other in on the many gaps of the Spike and Buffy story.

And obviously, Spike and Buffy had again locked themselves away upstairs. They wanted nothing to do with the world, and even Zack Morris was wise enough now to respect their wishes of solitude.

Cordelia had asked Nikki to help her with lunch, but was quickly turned down. Nikki was saying that she was going out to find Connor and inform him of what had been developing. When questioned, she said that he had a right to know why four vampires were allowed to stay in the Hyperion and his father was not. The brunette began to explain to Nikki why Spike and Buffy, as well as Zack and Kelly, were completely different than Angel, but decided that food was more important than Nikki’s opinion and headed to the kitchen to make lunch for herself.

Zack Morris was still sitting on the floor where Buffy had left him hours ago. Though the shock had worn off, Cordy could tell that he was deep in thought and decided that she wouldn’t disturb him. As she went to the refrigerator to begin surveying the contents, she was slightly startled when she heard the voice behind her.

"You’d think I’d learn never to take another vacation."

Cordy found some deli meat and cheese and turned to take it over to the counter. "What do you mean?"

Zack sighed before looking up to make eye contact. "Well, about nine years ago I take a trip to Washington D.C. The trip results in…well insanity. Granted I met Spike and Buffy, but I also got thrown into an apocalypse, discovered a whole new world of demons and magic, killed my former best friend and…" He paused. "Aliens invaded Zimbabwe."

Cordy nodded stoically. "I remember being told."

"Then we move to Sunnydale and relatively nothing happens. Considering Sunnydale. Time goes on and we all decide to take a trip to England and then—"

Cordy held up a hand in protest. "Yeah. I remember that one, too."

Zack gave a weak smile and a nod. "So yeah…Shoulda learned vacations equal badness. Hell, seems we can move anywhere we like, but if we decide to take a couple weeks off in order to relax, we seem to trigger some sort of apocalypse."

Cordy went back to fridge to grab some mustard as well as to pick up the bread on the counter. "You know…this just gives ample cause to blame this entire thing on you."

"Trust me," he said with a mirthless chuckle. "I am."

Despite the tension between her man and the vampire sitting on the kitchen floor, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Zack Morris in that moment. Without a doubt, he’d been an enormous pain in the ass since the moment he entered the door last night whining about the arrow sticking out of his shoulder and the nickname he felt he owned exclusive rights to, but seeing him now minus the whine showed that he was as lost, confused and stunned as the rest of them.

"Sandwich?"

The sandy-haired vampire looked up from his misery once again. "Depends on if there’s any blood in this place."

"Yeah, we got some picked up this morning along with a few groceries." She rolled her eyes. "Zack gets a little over-protective and prefers that I stay in as much as possible."

The mention of the other man immediately caused the vampire to bristle. "Jealous much?"

"No," Cordy admitted. "He just gets…" Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right word. She quickly realized there wasn’t really a word to describe Wright’s emotions when it came to her and this pregnancy. "Zack never wanted to fall in love again."

"So he wants to keep you locked up all day?"

Cordy smiled and shook her head as she completed her two sandwiches and started in on his. "Not quite." Her smile quickly left her. "It all goes back to Amber."

"Amber?"

"His first wife." She paused before adding, "Well, his only wife." She tried her hardest to hide the small amount of scorn in her voice, but she could tell by the vampire’s gaze that he caught on. She knew why Zack was unable to marry her now—especially now. And though she didn’t hold it against him, there were moments when it hurt more than she could explain. There were brief moments when she held the slightest bit of resentment toward Amber Wright and the fact that she had a part of Zack that Cordelia probably never would. She quickly continued. "She was killed."

"Oh," Zack said, unable to think of a more appropriate response.

"By Darla."

"Darla as in Order of Aurelius Darla?"

The brunette nodded, finishing Zack’s sandwich and beginning to replace all of the contents back into the ice box. "It was even more tragic at the time since she was pregnant."

Zack cringed. Despite what a horrendous asshole Zack Wright was, that was a fate that he couldn’t wish upon anyone. He honestly didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost Kelly, but losing Kelly as well as Rosie or William was beyond comprehension.

"It gets worse…as tales involving Darla often do." Cordy honestly didn’t know why she was telling him all of this. Partially because she felt that telling Zack Morris a little more about her lover may help him realize that he wasn’t all bad. Also, she realized that Wright’s story tied in with Spike and Buffy and the history that Zack Morris needed to understand was so critical at the moment. "See, Darla was infatuated by Zack and therefore jealous of Amber and the baby." She paused and took a shaky breath as she reached in to take the blood out and heat him up a glass. "So when Zack rejected her, she attacked."

Zack had unconsciously lifted himself off the floor and walked over to the counter to stand beside Cordy, hanging on every word. Cordy was so enwrapped in the tale that she didn’t notice the change. "Darla did more than kill them. She slaughtered them." Tears filled her eyes as she not only remembered the story, but Zack’s own depiction of that night—the way his eyes were full of a pain too deeply imbedded into his soul to ever truly be eased. "She ripped the baby out of her…Amber was found pinned to the wall and the baby was found in the bassinet they had bought…She was due at any moment." She brought a hand to her mouth as her voice trailed away. It was just too much to continue and she figured that the vampire’s imagination could fill in the rest.

It was beyond comprehension. He had seen death and violence—he’d been a part to death a violence on more than one occasion—but this kind of senseless, soulless slaughter of a mother and her unborn child really was beyond him. After a moment of silent reverie, he looked back to see how truly shaken the current mother-to-be was. As a husband and father of two, he did the only thing he knew how.

He hugged her.

Which while the most thoughtful and appropriate of actions, it was enough to send the Seer over the hormonal edge as she latched onto the vampire and burst into tears. And though Zack hated woman tears, he had enough sense to keep quiet.

Close to five minutes later, Cordy found her composure. "Sorry," she sniffled as she pulled away and began dabbing her eyes with a paper towel. "This stupid pregnancy causes me to get a little too emotional sometimes."

Zack couldn’t help but smile. "You forget that I’m married to Kelly. She’s emotional naturally, so you can’t even imagine how bad it got when she was pregnant. I stopped watching T.V. with her at night because she would cry at everything. She cried when they replaced the Taco Bell dog."

"Point taken," she said regaining herself and grabbing her food and water and walking out of the kitchen. Zack grabbed his prepared sandwich and glass of blood and followed suit. Moments later they were both situating themselves on sofas in the lobby.

"That’s how Zack became a demon hunter," Cordy continued after they had both delved into their lunch. Zack nodded his understanding of the seemingly random transition. "And that’s how he happened to come to L.A. He was on the search for Darla and signs pointed to her coming here when Angel lost his soul."

"Yeah," Zack said with a mouthful of sandwich. "Big Nose mentioned a little of this before and that’s when I get confused."

"Hate to break it to you, Beady Eyes, but you two have the same size noses and eyes," Cordy quipped before getting back to the topic at hand. "That’s where we all get a little confused." She looked at Zack with pleading eyes. "Listen to this and try not to get too judgmental and offended. The more I think about this, the more I think that it wasn’t anyone’s fault that Spike and Buffy hasn’t mentioned this. Mainly because I think Spike and Buffy forgot themselves."

Zack gave a pouty sigh. "Okay."

Cordy gave a self-satisfied smirk before continuing with the story. "You see, Wolfram and Hart had worked to lift the curse on Angel’s soul. They wanted to piece the Order of Aurelius back together…so Dru and Darla went to Sunnydale after Spike, and in her jealousy, Darla decided she wanted Buffy dead, too. Spike was so crazy about Buffy then that he turned them down…until Dru let the ‘we’re slayernapping Buffy’ thing cat out of the bag."

"Fair enough."

"They took Buffy and brought her here to Wolfram and Hart. This caused Spike, even though they weren’t together, to come to L.A. for her."

"So all of this was before or after she jumped off the Tower?"

"That’s the thing, Zack. The Tower never happened. Glory was defeated without Buffy dying."

"So that means that…" Zack’s mind was totally fucked up at the moment.

"Let me finish and then we can try to piece together what has and hasn’t happened in the past." Zack nodded his agreement. "Anyway, Zack and Spike met up when Zack tried to kill Spike."

"Dude, he sucks at the vampire killing, doesn’t he?"

"No," she said almost defensively. "He doesn’t. Now shut up and listen."

"Okay," he said a little meeker than he would have liked. He took a long drink of blood as she went on.

"They then came here and to make a long story short, a friendship and alliance was slowly born." In the midst of her talking, the brunette had finished sandwich number one and had began on number two. "Eventually, they discovered where Buffy was located and they planned her escape."

"Angelus had been torturing her, Big Nose said." Zack ignored the annoyed look on Cordy’s face. "And she was dead when they got there?"

"Yeah. Buffy didn’t share much, but I can only imagine what was done. But yeah, she was dead when they got to her and Zack made the split-second decision that Spike should sire her. Spike resisted and Zack pretty much forced him. Which you may not think so, but for a demon hunter who had spent years seeking out and killing vampires, this was a little on the side of monumental."

Though Zack really didn’t want to like anything about the man, he could appreciate the courage that a decision like that took. "Continue."

"Well…" She tried to figure out how to best sum things up. "Buffy turned into a vampire. Spike and Buffy got together after they overcame a couple emotional hurdles and all seemed well. In fact, they were staying here until they word came of an upcoming apocalypse in Washington D.C. They were contacted by the Scoobies in Sunnyhell who said there was bad mojo on the East Coast and they decided that they would go help out. We all decided to stay behind and…well…"

"Washington." The wheels started turning in his head. "So that’s when…"

"Looks to be," Cordy said quickly finishing the other sandwich and emptying her bottle of water. "God," she grumbled looking down at her expanding belly. "I seriously can’t stop eating. I swear, this thing better be human and not some demon that possessed me in the night."

Zack chuckled. "How far along are you?"

"Twenty-nine weeks."

"Any strange cravings?"

"You mean besides anything I can fit in my mouth?" They both had to laugh. "Sweets. And coffee. Every day I need a mocha latte or two. And anything sugary that I can get my hands on."

"With Rosie, Kelly craved beef. I swear steak, burgers, you name it. With William she wasn’t nearly as bad, but she kept wanting chili dogs." Zack shrugged. "I never said anything because I like beef and I like chili dogs. She would get a few of the really nasty cravings like peanut butter with popcorn and ice cream, but luckily not too often."

"So far…my cravings are the only thing normal."

They were silent for a few minutes as they both tried to again reason why the past wasn’t matching up. "So…" Zack said thinking out loud. "Spike sired Buffy, not the Master."

"Yup."

"So Buffy never lost her soul and became Porphyria."

"Slayers can’t lose their souls, you idiot."

"Well, I wasn’t there! This is what I was told."

"I know," Cordy sighed, wondering why she had for a while also believed all of what Zack was trying to clarify.

"And Buffy never died jumping off a tower saving the world from Glory."

"Nope."

"So that means that she didn’t die and stay buried for three months, being resurrected by the Scoobies and going through a hollow transition where she and Spike used each other for sex?"

"Catching on there, buddy." The pregnant woman had talked about sugar and now she craved it. She got off of the sofa and headed back toward the kitchen, knowing that the vampire would follow.

He did. "So…that would mean that Spike never tried to rape Buffy causing him to go off to Africa in search for a soul." When they reached the kitchen, they wordlessly began a search for the sweetest foods in the room.

"Obviously." The Seer was the victor when she found leftover doughnuts from yesterday morning. Since there were only two left, she didn’t bother to offer one to the guest as she grabbed a glass of milk and headed back toward the lobby.

Zack’s anger about being lied to as well as not informed of this VIP in Spike’s life had now dissipated, but the confusion grew stronger with every passing moment. "This makes no sense."

"You’re telling me," Cordy said finishing the first pastry before reaching her seat. Sitting down, she took a long gulp of milk and started in on the second dessert.

"But why would not only Spike and Buffy, but everyone else remember this very complex saga of false events?"

"Honestly, it feels like a spell. The way things are weaved in my mind…it honestly has to be a spell."

Zack was more open to the possibility than he had been this morning. Maybe because upon hearing more information it was evident that there was more wrong than he first imagined. The fact that the suggestion wasn’t coming out of Zack Wright’s mouth also lent it a little more credibility. "Do any of you have any real magical experience?"

Cordy shook her head. "Rosalie and I can See. Fred is a scientific genius, but magic is a no. Wesley is a former Watcher so he has the research skills of a young Giles. And Zack and Gunn are our biggest physical assets." She paused. "You guys?"

Zack quickly shook his head. "Kelly was teaching herself a little and getting some over the phone advice from Willow in England. But if yesterday is any proof of her talent…" He shuddered. "You guys might want to go check out east Bellmont. There was a vortex opened that I’m not sure was properly closed."

The brunette’s eyes grew wide. "Yeah, I’ll mention that to the guys when they get back in."

He didn’t know why his mind trailed back to a few sentences before. "Rosalie."

"Yeah," Cordy’s eyes warmed. "That’s Zack’s daughter. She’s…amazing."

Zack blinked. "That’s just weird."

"What?"

"My daughter is Rosie. And she can See too."

"That is weird. Two Zacks. Two Zangys. Two very similar looking men with very similar name choices for their similar daughters."

"We don’t look alike."

She merely snickered and moved on. "I wonder if Lorne could help. Maybe, but it might be a little out of his league. It depends on if he can read through the magic."

"Where is Lorne?"

"Caritas…but we can drag him here whenever need be."

Zack surveyed their options. They could always call Giles—if anything he could begin researching possible theories. But that would also mean that they would have to watch him repeatedly clean his glasses and listen to him incessantly go about how this was all their fault for some stupid scheme that he and Spike had probably tried to pull off before they left town. He really didn’t think this could tie back to the Loman spell they did when they were applying for that bank loan, but who could honestly tell at this point. Then it dawned on him.

"Willow!"

Cody looked up in surprise. "Where?"

"No. I mean we need to contact Willow. She’s supposed to be here by the end of the week. She was just stopping off to visit friends in D.C. If it’s magic, Red’s our girl."

"Sounds good. Let’s give her a call."

"Kelly has her cell number so as soon as she gets back from wherever she is, we’ll get her on her broomstick."

The idea of a plan and a stomach full of food seemed to make Cordelia relax for the first time in days—in fact, since Fred had first mentioned the word Patriarch. And apparently this relaxation not only satisfied her, but the baby as well, who began a little victory dance inside her womb.

"What?" Zack asked as Cordy began to clutch her stomach and giggle.

"Come here," she laughed, gesturing him over. She didn’t know why he would care about feeling her baby kick, but it was one of those moments that she loved to share with other people. And since he was the only person around, he’d just have to deal with it.

He arched a brow, but did as he was told and moved over to the sofa next to her. He didn’t protest as she grabbed his hand and firmly placed it on her belly. It didn’t take long to understand what was going on as a little limb poked him in the palm. And even he had to smile.

"Amazing isn’t it?"

Zack nodded. "I could never understand what would cause them to start performing prenatal gymnastics at the most random of times. Sometimes in the middle of the night and sometimes in the middle of lunch."

Cordy grinned. "We decided to wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," Zack looked down at his hand on her stomach. He’d never admit, but he missed Kelly pregnant. Especially knowing that they would never have another baby again. It was little moments like this that he longed for the most. "Kelly and I weren’t that patient. We wanted to start buying stuff so that by the time they were born we could start buying more."

The Seer understood. "We have our moments when we change our mind, but I think we’re going to make it." The baby flip-flopped once more, causing both to giggle.

A low growl from behind them drove reality back home in an instant. "What the fuck is going on?"

Zack Wright was standing in the doorway and his expression was anything but amused. 

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"

Morris knew he’d already dug himself into a deep enough hole with the demon hunter not to press the issue. Especially with conflicting accounts of the past up in the air; especially since he now carried the burden of empathizing with him, reluctant as his empathy was. Thus instead of arguing with the man and correcting whatever misconception was flying through his head, he took a dynamic step away from Cordelia and brought his hands up.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

Wright was practically snarling. "Sure as fuck doesn’t look like nothin’."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Zack, stop."

Morris pouted. "He started it."

She tossed him a dry glance and he immediately realized his mistake. "Oh," he said sheepishly, nodding at the other man. "You mean him."

"That would be correct."

Wright wasn’t about to let it go that quickly; he still looked very much mad-as-hell-and-not-gonna-take-it-anymore, which was why, Zack supposed, he was fortunate the air was stilted suddenly with tension as Spike and Buffy again stepped into the main lobby. His relief lasted all of three seconds before he remembered how his last meeting with Buffy went, and then every muscle in his body locked with apprehension.

But the couple barely paid him a glance. They moved side-by-side toward the kitchen area behind the checkin counter. Spike opened the refrigerator and began rifling through its contents before ultimately handing his mate a jar of blood, which she immediately treated to the microwave.

And for whatever reason, it occurred to Morris that he hadn’t heard either one of them say a word in more than twenty-four hours. It was unlike anything he’d seen—unlike he’d ever experienced. Spike was always yapping about something or another; be it how hungry he was, how much he needed a spot of violence, how he was going to shag Buffy into the ground next time they were alone—silence was not his sire’s forte. Yet aside from a few warning growls, Spike hadn’t uttered a single word, and somehow Zack knew it wasn’t a singular occasion. He knew the silence followed them when they were alone as it did when they decided to venture downstairs.

Given what Cordelia had told him, he could certainly understand. And it made him ache; he couldn’t imagine going through whatever it was they were going through. Imagining a past they’d believed in so richly being yanked from under them. Imagining the trust they’d worked toward and relied on being based on a lie. And while Zack couldn’t fathom how the real past could be anything less than an improvement from the lie they’d been conned into believing, being awakened from the spell they’d been placed under would take some time.

"Hey, Junior, I’d be careful if I were you," Wright said suddenly, drawing Zack back to the present. "You wouldn’t want to actually lose an arm."

"Zack," Cordelia admonished.

"What? You should’ve seen what Buffy did to the Boy Wonder over here—"

"That’s because he didn’t know, you jerk." She thwapped his arm indignantly, but there was no force behind it. Her ire melted at the wounded puppy look Wright seared her with, "Look…we obviously have a lot more at hand here than dealing with some stupid pissing contest. So stop it."

Wright’s hands came up. "I’m just saying…he does anything to exacerbate the issue, and we’re gonna have a problem."

"He wasn’t doing _anything!"_

"He was touching you. That’s _something_."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Oh please, is that what this is about?"

"It was an accident," Zack offered meekly, but he shriveled at the glare he earned from the once Queen C. "What? I was helping."

"You don’t need to tell him anything."

"Oh really?" Wright countered, crossing his arms, his brow furrowing. "Because here I was thinking maybe an explanation would go a long way to preventing a scattering of dust on the floor."

To be honest, Zack’s interest in the unfolding lover’s quarrel only remained piqued until Spike and Buffy left the kitchen area again. He was surprised when they neglected to return upstairs, rather for the first time, they went their separate ways. Spike wandered across the foyer with a mug of blood in hand, sinking into one of the sofas along the wall, his glassy eyes soaking in the unfolding scene before him.

For her part, Buffy wandered across the lobby and stepped outside into what Zack could only presume was the courtyard.

He didn’t know what was happening. Spike and Buffy apart, still silent, was almost as frightening as they were silent and together.

No. Strike that. It was more frightening. More. If they weren’t giving strength to each other anymore, did it mean they had given up?

God, he hoped not. If they had to proceed forward in this increasingly bizarre puzzle without the key players, there was little hope of ever putting anything back together.


	6. Chapter 6

Memory was a funny thing. It could cut. It could slice. It could patch things up and tear things apart. Memory provided scents she’d forgotten. Memory made scars she hadn’t known she’d had sting as though new. Memory gave her back a room she would have preferred never to enter again, and made her wrists and ankles ache as though not a day had passed since Angelus had her locked in his playroom.

Since she’d first awakened as his prisoner.

She remembered so much now. Remembered Drusilla’s cackling laugh and Darla’s taunting smirk. Remembered the cut of foreign torture devices carving into her skin. Remembered Angelus’s fangs around her breast as he lapped up all the blood he’d spilt. She remembered his invasion into her body—the way he laughed when she wept. The way he punished her for not screaming. The way he mocked the blood running between her legs. The way he told her no one would ever know where to look. How would the Scoobies know about Wolfram and Hart, he’d say. And even if they did, it wasn’t like they could do anything about it.

She was in a fortress. She was unreachable. She might as well have been in the Tower of London. Only then, maybe, there’d be a chance of escape.

But there was no chance. There was nothing. There was simply the existence of living for his sick pleasure. For hanging from the ceiling, naked, bruised, and bleeding, hoping he wouldn’t come to visit her today. Hoping her body would have time to mend before he decided he wanted to rape her again. Hoping perhaps she would get a little bit of food and a little bit of water to accelerate the healing process. Hoping for things she knew better than to wish for, because Angelus was right. There was no one to come for her. There was nothing to do at all but wait until he tired of her completely and gave her the death wish Spike had told her all slayers possessed. The death wish she hadn’t believed in until now. Until dangling in the bowels of Hell, waiting for darkness to overwhelm her completely.

Those were her darkest thoughts. Buffy wasn’t one to thrive on pessimism; there were some days, between agony and despair, when she’d concoct plans to get out. When she’d escape so often in her thoughts that it nearly broke her to open her eyes and realize she hadn’t moved an inch.

It was then that she had the dream. The dream that gave her hope.

Spike was in Los Angeles. Spike was coming for her.

God, could anything be more ridiculous? Spike didn’t give a crap about her. Spike was her enemy, a renowned slayer-killer, someone who was counting the minutes until his chip was removed so he could finish her off properly. Spike, at least, wouldn’t humiliate her like this. She knew that for certain. Whenever she and Spike finally duked it out to the last, he would make sure her death was quick. The death of a champion. He had respect enough for her to ensure she would never go through this.

And perhaps that was why she dreamt of him. Perhaps she thought he was coming to enact his claim on her death. He’d earned it far more than Angelus had. Perhaps he was going to bust her out only to kill her good and proper.

Only those intent on one’s death didn’t caress like Spike did. Didn’t ease her tired muscles or kiss her broken skin. Didn’t stroke her between the thighs and grow enraged at the idea that someone had made her bleed. When she finally acknowledged Spike was real, she similarly acknowledged his purpose. He wasn’t there to hurt her. He was there to help. He was there to get her out.

And he touched her like a lover because he loved her.

Somewhere between their stolen encounters and the hope he infused in her worn veins, Buffy fell in love with him. Not Spike the Savior—Spike the Vampire. Being chained in Angelus’s prison allowed her to meet a man she’d never seen before. Allowed her stubborn eyes to open completely and take in the vision of what Spike had been trying to offer her longer than she wanted to consider. She fell in love with him then, right before Angelus killed her.

Right before Spike and Zack found her. Right before she became a vampire.

And even though the transition from one life to the next was difficult, Buffy had opened her eyes in a room stuffed with blankets and pillows, and a worried vampire at her side. Buffy had awakened in Spike’s arms. He helped her adapt. He let her adjust. He didn’t touch her unless she touched him first. And when they made love for the first time, he asked her softly if she was truly ready to have someone inside her. Because he knew what Angelus had done. He knew her body had been a harvest of torture, and with as much as he wanted her, he’d stake himself before hurting her.

Buffy had healed, though. She wasn’t like other girls. Her body hadn’t been ravaged by a human, and it couldn’t be healed on human terms. Just like she couldn’t hold herself to human standards. Not anymore. Having Spike inside her had only made things better. With him, she rediscovered what it felt like to be loved from the inside out and outside in again. With him, she felt protected and cherished. With him, she’d rediscovered herself. And she owed him everything.

Buffy remembered that now. Just a few days ago, her past had been something else entirely. Her past had consisted of jumping off a Tower to prevent a hellgod from returning home, therein destroying the world. Her past was a patchwork of painful memories of a Heaven she no longer believed existed, a year that had done more to harm her than a decade in Angelus’s dungeon could ever hope to reach. A seemingly unforgivable encounter on a bathroom floor, the tear-stained, desperate face of her once-savior trying to make her feel by forcing himself inside. Fast forward to the return of her savior, encased in a soul and unwilling to love her for the sin he’d committed against her. Fast forward even further still; she’d murdered Faith in a soulless rampage. She’d tried to seduce Angel with a smirk on her face. She’d mocked William’s humanity and forced him to sacrifice his soul to preserve her own. They’d emerged from the cave together, yes, but as fragments of themselves. It had taken years to get where they were now. It had taken years.

Years of her life where she hadn’t completely trusted him. When she still flinched and had nightmares of an attempted rape that never occurred. Years when she met Spike’s loving eyes and wondered how it was that they’d ever misunderstood each other as potently as they once had.

Buffy couldn’t remember not loving him. Not before the artificial jump off the Tower, not even in the falsified year of destruction that had followed. Not ever. And even now, she blamed herself for what had never happened in the bathroom of her home in Sunnydale. Because in their year of darkness, she was the monster. Spike hadn’t been a saint, but he’d come closer than she ever had.

All for nothing. Spike had not once attempted to harm her. Not once. Not after he loved her.

She’d wasted so much time. And while they’d lived blissfully these last few years, there was the wealth of time before then when they had not. When she’d punished him for something he’d never done.

He’d saved her from Hell, and she’d treated him like the devil.

Buffy couldn’t help herself. Gazing upon the stars and surrounded by night-blooming jasmine, a sob strangled her throat and her legs buckled. Concrete scraped her hands and blood tinged the air. But she couldn’t care. She couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t keep from breaking.

*~*~*

"I don’t even see why he needs to stay here!" Wright screamed, arms flailing. "This isn’t about him!"

"You know damn well that’s not the case!"

"He’s caused nothing but trouble since we brought Spike and Buffy home!"

Cordelia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Yeah, and right now, you’re the picture of stability."

"I won’t have him hurting our friends—"

"Has he said a word since you got back?"

"One or two," Morris answered sheepishly, feeling idle and self-conscious.

"I—"

Something snapped before anyone could say another word. Spike had been sitting quietly, almost invisibly, on the settee for the past ten minutes, taking the occasional sip of blood. Before anyone could scream another word, the vampire’s head snapped up and his eyes flared meaningfully, the mug in his hands crashing to the ground.

And everything stopped.

It happened fast. Spike watched Buffy waver and collapse before he could reach her. He watched, and felt, as the silence surrounding her ultimately cracked, leaving nothing but the hollow sounds of realization. She was sobbing uncontrollably by the time he took her in his arms, clawing for him in a way he didn’t think she was fully aware of. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and threw her arms around him, trembling as she cried the weight of everything that had transpired into his willing embrace.

Spike couldn’t help but weep with her, stroking her hair and murmuring a quiet, "Shhh…’s all right, love. It’s all right. I’m here."

But it wasn’t all right, and they both knew it.

She tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice, so he kissed her to let her know he understood.

"I’m here," he whispered again. "I love you."

If anything, the same words that he told her a thousand times a day only made her sob harder. But that didn’t make them any less important. She needed to hear them.

"I love you. We’ll get through it."

Buffy tightened her arms around him but didn’t speak.

"I love you," he said again, pressing his lips to her brow. He’d say it until his throat was hoarse. She needed to know. No matter what happened—what the past had made them believe or what scars they didn’t actually need to heal—he was hers. Always. Nothing could ever change that.

He sat like that, Buffy in his arms, rocking back in forth as she sobbed herself exhausted. His heart broke for her, but she needed him to be strong. She needed him to carry the strength for both of them.

She needed to be allowed weakness. Just this once.

And if any of the wankers in the lobby staring at the open-mouthed dared speak a word, he’d eliminate the lot of them. Friends be damned.

This was something none of them could understand.

*~*~*

Nobody knew what to do or how to react. And that was why Zack Morris and Wright, Cordelia and Gunn had decided to give Spike and Buffy as much privacy as possible. And in that, they actually walked outside the front of the Hyperion to where the cars were parked.

"Okay," Gunn said deciding to be the first to speak. "What the hell was that?" He received three sets of glares in response.

Cordy shook her head and looked to her lover. "Things are getting worse."

Wright glanced back at the Hyperion before sighing in agreement. "Yeah. I just don’t know…This is…"

"Willow," Zack Morris murmured in revelation. All eyes turned to him in expectation, but he was still wrapped up in his inner thoughts.

Gunn gave Wright a bemused look. "Isn’t this where you shoot down his ego or make fun of his beady eyes or something."

"Big nose," Wright growled before a pause. "I think."

"Willow?" Cordy asked, pulling Zack Morris back to reality.

"Yeah. You and I were talking about how this has the classic signs of being magically induced. Nobody knows it better than a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"But she’s in England," the brunette said in impatience. "It’s gonna take days for her to get all the way out here."

"Not necessarily."

Wright jumped it. "Sure. She can just hop on her magic broomstick and fly on over with the monkeys."

Morris gave him a condescending look. "I meant she’s already in D.C. and she has a prominent connection with First Lady Santos’ Chief of Staff. She can get a flight here as soon as one takes off from Dulles."

"And you think that she won’t have anything better to do?" Gunn asked.

"Are you kidding?" Cordy and Zack laughed in unison. "Willow lives for this kind of stuff!"

*~*~*

"Are you kidding? I live for this stuff!"

Josh gave Donna a skeptical look as Willow clasped her hands and looked in awe at the White House bullpen. "Is this really a wise idea?" he murmured.

"What could possibly go wrong?" Donna smiled back. "Besides, I checked and you’re free for the next hour. That’s enough time to give Willow a tour and have lunch down at the mess."

"I really need to be working on—"

"Jacob already told me that you’re finished with the Defense memo and President Santos has been pestering you to slow down during the day."

"Yeah but…" He made the vaguest gesture between the two of them. Willow caught the look and smiled in acknowledgement.

"Don’t worry. Donna filled me in."

Josh and Donna had been walking a fine line of secrecy for the past three years. As they decided back at Hogwarts, any relationship between them needed to be kept secret in order to assure that their private life never influenced their public one. There had been difficulties over the years and a brief breakup when she stopped working for him when he was Deputy Chief of Staff under President Bartlet. But now he was Chief of Staff for President Santos and she was CoS for Lady Santos. They had decided that with their high-profile positions they were going to keep things a secret from everyone in Washington until Santos was out of office and they were ready to settle down and make a family for themselves.

All had been successful until one late night when Josh decided to get a little handsy. The door flew open just as his hand went up Donna’s skirt.

The President agreed to keep up the secret.

Josh looked skeptical. "Are you sure? This is pretty important."

"Puh-lese," Willow dismissed with the flip of a hand. "I deal with bigger secrets all the time. Like try getting the kids to stay out of the second floor storage room. Hiding a mess of Shuemog demons is a challenge. You hear the wails and every sixth year is doing locating spells because they think they’re missing an orgy."

Josh and Donna’s eyes and mouths went wide. After clearing his throat, Josh hoarsely whispered, "Did we forget the other unmentionables?"

"I may have forgotten to fill her in," Donna said sheepishly.

"Great," the Chief of Staff growled as he ran a hand through his curly brown hair.

"What?" Willow then thought about her last words. "Oh. Gotcha. No magic talk."

"Magic talk?" A fine dressed brunette man asked coming up behind the group.

"Sam Seaborn," Donna said with a smile, hoping that the introduction would help change the subject. "This is our friend, Willow Rosenberg."

"Hi," Willow said perkily as she extended her hand.

"Hello," Sam said with his usual charming vibrato. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

The last thing on earth that Josh and Donna needed was to let Sam know that they were still in contact with some of the people that they encountered on that fateful night nearly a decade ago. The entire Bartlet administration had all sworn to never mention the incident ever again and there had been extensive classification of reports with the Treasury Department as well as with the Department of Defense.

This was another thing that Josh assumed that Donna forgot to fill Willow in on. "No!" he said with an almost girlish pitch. "Willow is a friend from the campaign. She’s here for a few days before heading to California to visit with family."

"Terrific." Then he added, "I’m from California, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Orange County. And you?"

"Sunnydale," she said without a thought.

The familiar look of nervousness flashed behind his eyes, but he was able to recover it quickly. "Nice…weather there."

"Yeah."

"Well, we would love to stand here and chit chat, but Donna and I were actually giving her a White House tour."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Josh was pleased with the idea that with the mention of the campaign and the fact that Josh and Donna were both participating in the tour that Willow now looked like a major campaign donor instead of the crazy magic woman that she truly was.

"Well, I have a break between meetings now, so I can tag along."

"Sam is a congressman for California’s 147th," Josh said furthering the conversation as they began to make their walk around the building. "Before that he was the Deputy Communications Director under President Bartlet."

Realization flashed before her as she realized why he claimed to recognize her. She could bet that he was among the many staffers that had surrounded the former president on the infamous night that never ended. And as Donna had told her years ago, anything about that night was forbidden to ever come near the White House again. There had been too much trouble containing the truth about the last apocalypse and C.J. Cregg had had a hell of a time dealing with all of the damage control. "So…you must know quite a bit about the White House then?"

Sam gave a cocky smile. "Well, I don’t like to brag, but working here under two different administrations has given me quite a lot of insight into the White House and how it works."

Josh decided that this moment was too good to pass up. As they entered the first room of the tour, he decided to participate in his fondest activity with his closest friends—doing anything in his power to mock them in good company. It often helped him deal with his own insecurities. "So, Sam, tell Willow a little about this room and its history." As he caught his Deputy’s eyes begin to widen in fear, he added "Since you know so much about the White House, not to brag."

It was common knowledge that of everything that Sam Seaborn was an expert in—from Washington politics, to writing in its highest forms of excellence and the importance of dental hygiene, Sam was a complete dunce when it came to the history surrounding him day after day within the walls of the White House.

Sam recovered quickly and then didn’t seem nearly as nervous as Josh had anticipated. "In 1933 a heated indoor pool was created for President Roosevelt. Nixon turned the area into the White House pressroom during his first term in office."

"And Sam wanted to change it back," Donna snickered remembering moments from the long-forgotten past.

"What can I say? The Democrats had the right idea and the Republicans came and messed it all up."

Willow was notably impressed with the tidbit of trivia.

Sam continued. "Well, in 1942 a cloakroom in the East Wing was converted into a movie theater."

"Have you ever been in it? And watched a movie?"

"Well, sure. President Bartlet had a movie night about once a month and President Santos and his kids do about the same."

Willow was in utter awe. Josh was in utter annoyance.

Sam was looking quite proud of himself. "This is the East Room." As he ushered Willow inside the door they all took a moment to appreciate the décor. "As you can see, the furnishings and ambiance are of French influence. James Hoban is the principle architect and he was particularly proud of this oval shaped room. If you look around you can see the eight original pieces that have remained throughout the time that this has been a reception hall." He gestured at the room. "Including the bergerè and armchair."

Donna didn’t know what to say. This man once told people that the Roosevelt Room was named after Franklin as he stood under the six foot painting of Teddy. She was impressed. "What’s a bergerè?"

"C’mon. We have more to see." That and Sam wasn’t exactly sure.

"I thought you didn’t know anything about the White House?" Josh snarled.

"President Roosevelt broadcasted his fireside chats from the Diplomatic Reception Room in the White House during the Great Depression."

"Are we going there?"

"If we have time. First, you should see the Mural Room and Oval Office."

"I-I can go into the Oval Office?"

"If the President isn’t in there working still. Did you know that during World War I, Wilson kept a flock of sheep right out on the lawn? At its peak, there were eighteen. They saved money on lawn keeping costs and made good charitable donations off of the wool."

Sam continued to impress both women and annoy the hell out of Josh as he guided them through the bullpens and the Mural Room. As they came to the Oval Office, Garrett let them know that President Santos was in the residence for the moment and the office was free.

"This is amazing," Willow cooed as she stood in the middle of the room.

"And did you know that the height of the room is eighteen and a half feet?"

"Okay…how the hell do you know all this?" Josh couldn’t take it any longer.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing big. Just like I know that the White House acquired the first electric refrigerator in 1926."

"Sam!" It caught everyone off guard how upset that Josh was becoming.

"What? Can’t I know this stuff?"

"No," the curly haired man said simply.

"Electric vacuum cleaners were used for the first time on White House carpets in 1922."

Willow was beyond impressed. Donna had to admit that she was too. Josh would be if he hadn’t been banking on being the impressive one.

Sam blushed and looked down at the floor. He had to admit that he was a little proud that he had retained all this useless information. He had spent over an hour sitting down and going over all the index cards that he made early in the Bartlet administration. He refreshed himself again when he joined Josh with Santos. It was only because he was so determined not to make the same mistakes that he had in the past. "I Googled." His voice was a whisper.

"Aha!" Josh was confident that this would discredit all the information he just recited, but it had the opposite effect. Willow then spent the next five minutes between alternating about the Oval Office carpet and discussing how she had been appealing to her school to allow the use of laptops in order for the children to more quickly access information they needed for some of their less hands-on subjects.

Josh quickly decided that he would move on. Especially since he was beginning to get hungry and his next phone call was scheduled for twenty minutes. "Wanna go get a bite to eat?"

As they all headed down to the mess, luck decided to once again screw with him. Sam got a curious look on his face as they walked and talked their way down the hallway. "What were you guys saying earlier about magic?"


	7. Chapter 7

Zack Morris was pacing the outside of the Hyperion while Zack Wright and Cordy watched. Gunn had gone inside to inform Fred and Wesley about the latest plan. "Why the hell did I do that?"

The brunette woman gave an amused look. "That could be asked of anyone who attempted in the past six months to use their cell phone to kill a Crevis demon."

"But not if it had been a year a more?" Wright asked with a smirk.

"Guys!" Morris whined. "Seriously. Okay, we’ve decided that my method of chucking a cell phone at a demon was a lame tactic, but it was the distraction that allowed Buffy to go in for the kill."

"And the more pathetic point is that it was six months ago and you never updated your address book."

Cordy shrugged. "What’s wrong with calling Giles?"

Morris laughed. "Call Giles? Call Giles? Calling Giles would be like calling your father and admitting that you totaled his Porsche. It would be like calling the FBI and saying, yes I did commit that long list of unsolved murders and I also was the one who shot Kennedy and kidnapped Amelia Earhart."

"Little dramatic, don’t you think?" Wright mocked.

Cordelia paused. "I don’t know. You haven’t ever met Giles."

"Exactly!" Morris shouted.

The brunette shrugged. "Oh well."

"Oh well? _Oh well!_ What plan do you have then? Things are getting worse by the second and I don’t know how much longer Spike and Buffy can live within the walls that they have created around themselves."

Wright was about to let loose some of his frustration on the blonde for snapping at his love, but Cordy was able to hold her own. "I meant oh well because Kelly and Rosalie just pulled up and figuring Kelly like I do she is bound to have Willow’s home phone, cell phone, social security and ATM pin number in her purse right now."

Morris was speechless. Wright was delighted. Kelly was already fumbling in her purse for Willow’s number.

"What’s going on?" Rosalie asked approaching her father while bouncing little William on her hip.

"We’re apparently summoning some witch to come in and figure out what’s going on here?"

"What can she do?" Rosie asked in exactly the same tone as the child before. It was noticed by all the adults, but wasn’t questioned considering all of the other circumstances. 

Cordy decided to answer. "Well, we figure that she can use her powers to come in and figure out what dark forces have been working their mojo on us. We know something has been blinding us and whatever has seriously affected our realities."

"Spike and Buffy seem to have had the worst of it."

Kelly had pulled out her pocket address book and was thumbing through it as she spoke. "We can give her a call and she should be here within the next day or two."

Rosalie wondered if she was the only one who saw it. As everyone seemed relieved by Kelly’s estimate, she realized that she was. "We don’t need to wait that long," Rosalie said slowly.

"Yeah we do," Kelly said patiently. "Willow has been in talks with the Department of Magic here, but she hasn’t yet been given a permit for Apparition. It’s a whole lot of red tape, but apparently they have fees out of this world."

"Doesn’t surprise me," Wright grumbled. "A hundred bucks for a damn passport is insanity."

"No," Rosalie said loudly, causing everyone to look at her. "I mean, we don’t need her to figure out what’s going on."

Her father took a tentative step towards her. "Sweetie, have you had another vision?"

She shook her head. "We need Lorne."

*~*~*

He’d been watching her for what felt like hours. In the cool aftermath of whatever had transpired downstairs, curled beside her on the bed Wright had lent them for the duration of their stay, Spike kept his arm solid around Buffy’s middle, unwilling to let her go. Unwilling to forfeit any contact between them, especially now. Especially like this.

Especially with everything changed.

Buffy hadn’t said anything since he carted her upstairs. She hadn’t made a sound aside from a few whimpers when he drew her top over her head or her jeans down her legs. She’d done little more than tremble when he kissed her shoulder and slid one of his tees over her perfect body, murmuring all along how it was all right. How everything would be fine. How there was nothing in the world for which to be sorry; he wouldn’t trade a minute of anything, and he knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t, either.

It was just hard. Hard reconciling two different histories. Two different paths of memories. Two of everything and little knowledge as to why they were where they were and how they’d gotten there. There were people downstairs that Spike cared about—his two best mates and their girls—and there was no connection between them in his mind. He’d known Wright for years and then he hadn’t, and then Zack had been in his life for years. They were as close as brothers—both of them, all of them—but he didn’t know the reason of the divide. The connection between them, if there was one. He didn’t know anything.

Hell, he didn’t know if he could trust what his mind told him was real. In the periods of silence when he wasn’t worried off his arse about Buffy, his treacherous thoughts had led him to wonder if he really knew Zack Morris as well as he thought he did. Perhaps Zack was a part of the reason behind the holes in his memory. The two blokes were so bloody similar it was near impossible to discern them. Fuck, they even named their daughters the same name. Rosie and Rosalie, both seers. Both windows into the PTB. Both pivotal in his life in two very different times.

What if Zack Morris was in on the ever-elusive it? What if he’d spent the past few years making sure Spike got off his path, and took Buffy with him?

The thought made him ill. Zack was his brother, his closest friend. And while Spike wasn’t used to trusting people, the past few years with Buffy and Zack and Kelly—these wonderful, if not slightly unconventional years of domestic bliss had been the best of his unlife. If Zack turned out to be more foe than friend and it came down to offing him to preserve the life Spike had with Buffy, it would tear him apart.

He’d do what was needed, of course, but it’d tear him apart.

All he knew was Buffy. Buffy was the one absolute in his life.

And Buffy was in pain. He didn’t pretend not to know what was going on in her gorgeous head. He saw it all—felt it all. He felt her pain and knew the reason for her tears. Every breath which rolled through her body carried the weight of something he didn’t want to consider. She was thinking of the false past, and the distance between them because of it. The distance which, admittedly, had closed tighter and tighter as years went by until the walls of separation were all but fused together.

She was upset because of something that had never happened.

And he didn’t know what to do. What to tell her. They were curled together on their bed, her back pressed against his chest, silent tears rolling down her gorgeous cheeks. Every few seconds she would squeeze his hand where it rested against her middle. Every caress made his heart constrict. She was a picture of strength, his slayer. Even when she was breaking she was strong.

"It’s gonna be all right, y’know," he murmured, brushing his lips against her throat.

Buffy was quiet.

"No matter what, baby, it’ll be all right."

There was nothing for a long beat. Then, finally, he felt her inhale, and relief poured through his body.

In just a few hours, he’d missed the sound of her voice like nothing else.

"Is it?" she replied softly, her hand tightening hard around his. He didn’t even think about releasing her. "‘Cause it really doesn’t feel like it."

"It never does. But I’m still here, luv."

"I don’t know why."

Spike hugged her to him. "My silly slayer. Can’t you guess?"

"I’ve been horrible to you."

"Rot."

"I never…" Buffy sniffed hard, her voice crackling. "I never pushed it away, Spike. We’ve been happy. God, we’ve been so happy. But there are times when…it was there, you know? Just there in the back of my head. It’d come and go, but never disappear completely."

"I know."

"I love you so much. How could I—"

Spike kissed her temple tenderly. "I love you too."

"Even if I never let it go?"

"It never happened, love."

"I know, but I never…when I thought it did, I never let it go. And then all those years after what never happened—"

"An’ you think I never thought about it again? It haunted me…even thinkin’ I could—"

"But you couldn’t."

"An’ we know that. ‘S all that matters."

Buffy whimpered in protest and twisted in his arms, so that her emerald eyes clashed with his. "You saved me," she said. "You saved me, and all I’ve done is punish you."

"I’ll say it again so that it’ll get through this gorgeous, thick skull of yours." Spike kissed her brow, then muttered, "Rot."

"Angelus killed me. He raped me and killed me and—"

Spike’s eyes fell closed at the memory. His failure. The thing which had haunted him for years. Even when he didn’t remember it, the shadow of what had happened had trailed after him; a phantom he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t made it to Wolfram and Hart fast enough; he hadn’t broken her out of there before Angelus touched her. Before she was hurt. Before she was violated in a way no woman ever should be violated.

He hadn’t made it there in time to save her. He hadn’t made it.

Buffy had died because of him. And while he wouldn’t trade the aftermath for anything, the echoes of failure would follow him for the rest of his life.

"—you saved me."

"Not fast enough."

"Spike—"

"Not bloody fast enough."

Buffy’s eyes softened and she neared him slowly, her lips brushing his and sending a long shudder through his body. "Spike," she said softly, "you saved me. That night…that first night…and every night after that. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. If you hadn’t…"

"Sweetheart—"

"We’re talking about my guilt, not yours."

He smirked in spite of himself. "Sorry. Din’t mean to rain on your parade."

"I—"

"Look…do you love me?"

Buffy blinked. Hard. "What?"

"Do you love me? Do you still plan to spend eternity with me? Do you want—"

"Of course I do!"

He grinned and kissed her again. "Then we’re fine. We din’t do anything wrong, pet. This is somethin’ that’s been done to us, not the other way around. Nothing’s changed. I love you more than anything in this world, an’ as long as you love me, that’s all I need."

It looked for a second like she would cry again. Or perhaps the tears were in his eyes. He didn’t know. All he knew was she was completely in his arms the next second, her face buried in the crook of his throat, her succulent body pressed against his, trembling hard as she enveloped herself completely in his embrace.

"You’re wonderful," she murmured against his skin.

"I know it."

Buffy giggled, and though it was fogged with tears, it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. "Ego-maniac."

"You love it."

"I love you."

"You love this, too." She hugged him tighter. "I love you, too."

Spike smiled, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, peace flooded through his body. He could face anything in the world as long as she was at his side. Even the shadows looming around them didn’t seem so ominous. And while he dreaded facing what awaited them downstairs, nothing seemed so gloomy as long as Buffy was at his side.

"An’ that, my love, is all I need."

*~*~*

Now that they knew what had to be done, it was a matter of broaching the subject with the vampires upstairs. Buffy and Spike hadn’t been seen for several hours; not since Buffy’s breakdown in the garden and Spike’s subsequent carting her up to their bedroom, no one had been brave enough to do as much as knock on the door and see if they needed their blood supply replenished. There was nothing to do but wait and see what happened—no matter how pressing the atmosphere became.

Zack Wright knew how important Buffy was to Spike, and vice versa—he had, after all, been the one to essentially sire her for the then-grieving vampire’s benefit. And Zack Morris, of course, had spent the past nine years with a front-row seat witnessing their beyond-loving relationship. Wesley’s boost in confidence hadn’t extended to braving the threshold of a room where grieving vampires were enwrapped with each other and attempting to heal old wounds. Even the women, notoriously braver than their men, decided to give Buffy and Spike their space. 

But that didn’t mean they didn’t plot.

And by the time the acoustics of the Hyperion echoed movement in the upper levels, their plan went into motion.

"Hey Kelly," Cordelia said dramatically, her voice awkwardly pitched—an actress prime to overact. "I’m feeling glum."

Wright and Morris exchanged a glance, then looked sharply to the mated couple descending the stairs. Spike and Buffy stopped shortly, both arching a brow in flawless unison.

And to everyone’s horror, Kelly responded in kind. "Me too," she drawled vividly. "I just found out that the past decade of my life has been an elaborate lie."

"Oh God," Wright muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Can you do nothing to stop her?"

"Me?" Morris whispered furiously. "It was your girlfriend who started it!"

"You can’t blame her! She’s pregnant!"

"That’s a real bummer," Cordelia agreed with a horribly staged nod. "But you know what I like to do when I’m feeling glum?"

"Stop her!" Morris hissed.

"No," Kelly replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "But I would sure appreciate a pointer."

"Yeah, ‘cause she’s the one who needs to be stopped," Wright growled.

"Oh my God," Buffy said, horrified. Not even the much-anticipated sound of her voice could stop the poorly-staged skit taking place in the foyer.

"‘S like a train-wreck," Spike agreed, tightening his grip around her waist. "Wanna grab a closer seat?"

"Maybe if we stand perfectly still they won’t notice we’re here," Morris murmured.

"What did we do?" Wright replied.

"It always helps me…" Cordelia said, gesturing obnoxiously with her arms. "To…sing!"

"But where in this town can I sing and feel better at the same time?"

The girls fell silent for a second in a badly-acted beat of contemplation. Then, they turned to each other as though reaching the same point at the same time. "Caritas!" they proclaimed.

"A place to sing and find out what’s bothering you!" Cordelia said proudly.

Kelly beamed. "Cordy…you’re a genius!"

Wright and Morris were slack-jawed. Buffy and Spike were just amused.

"Are the lot of you so bloody bored when we’re not around to entertain that this is what you came up with?" Spike drawled, arching a brow.

Cordy and Kelly turned to them with a badly-staged gasp. "Oh, Spike!" Cordy cried. "And Buffy!

"We didn’t see you there!" Kelly added.

Morris moaned loudly. Wright sighed and turned his eyes heavenward.

"Yeah," Buffy replied dryly. "We didn’t mean to interrupt."

"You didn’t interrupt. We were just discussing what we do when we’re upset." Cordelia smiled softly and took a step forward. "You feeling all right, Buff?"

"Oh yeah," she replied. "Right as rain."

"How can rain be right?" Kelly asked.

Morris moaned again, rushing over to Kelly’s side as though to prevent another staged performance. "Girls…please…"

"We just got them downstairs; we don’t want to scare them off."

Spike paused and tossed a speculative glance between the two Zacks. "Maybe you should go catatonic more often, pet," he murmured playfully, earning a smirk from Buffy. "Looks like they’re gettin’ along."

Wright and Morris recoiled simultaneously. "We’re not getting along," they proclaimed together.

"He has beady eyes," Morris accused.

"Me? Look at the size of his nose!"

Buffy arched a brow. "And these fictitious physical features are keeping you from getting along?"

"Yes!" the identical men screamed.

She grinned and glanced back to Spike, who looked ten years younger—though at his age, ten years didn’t mean too much. They were both unhinged still about their false past, and likely would be for a long while. However, as he had so adamantly demonstrated upstairs, nothing was beyond reach as long as they were together. They’d muddled through the worst in a matter of hours—and though they still had a long ways to go—though the circumstances revolving around the past decade of their lives was shadowed in mystery—she had faith in their bond.

She just hoped for Spike’s sake that Zack turned out to indeed be the friend they’d thought he was. And perhaps, in that regard, Cordy and Kelly’s skit proved useful. It would at least put them all on the same page.

As though reading her mind, Spike turned to her with a wry grin. "Caritas, then?" he asked.

Buffy glanced to Cordelia and Kelly, who were beaming angelically.

"Caritas."

*~*~*

"You didn’t!"

"I did," he said casually as he took another sip of wine.

"Your decision to run was as simple as that?"

"It had to be," Sam shrugged lightly. "Wilde was dead and nobody came forward."

Willow was blown away. "But you had never thought of running before." He nodded. "Seriously?"

He laughed. "Seriously."

"His widow inspired you." He nodded. "That could be the sweetest story I ever heard."

Sam blushed over his drink. "Well…sweet is rare in Washington politics. I do what I can."

Willow had no idea why she had been hanging around this man all afternoon. Her original plan consisted of taking her White House tour and returning to the hotel to relax and wait for Donna to get done with work. She had now spent the past hour and a half drinking wine and sharing stories with Congressman Seaborn.

"Are you sure you have nothing better to do? Like run the country? Or sneak in more illegal immigrants?"

Sam gave her a flirtatious smirk. "I cancelled my waterboarding appointment this morning. I never like to use enhanced interrogation practices before Thursday." He didn’t know why he didn’t just go back to the office and leave the woman alone. "I honestly have a light schedule this afternoon, but I understand. You probably have other things to do. I mean, you are flying on to California tomorrow, right?"

"I really have no plans. I was just going to wait until Donna was through at the White House and have her show me around."

Sam smiled. "If you want, I could show you around."

Willow was totally crushing on this guy. "I would love that."

*~*~*

The entire room looked toward the front door as they entered. More than one observer had to assume the circus had just arrived to town. The group of thirteen looked completely out of place with the atmosphere of Caritas and its early afternoon clientele.

"Hey there sugars!" Lorne strutted over. "What brings you guys out during this part of the day?" He then glanced over the group and found Spike’s eye. "And I mean that in more ways than one."

"We need your help." Wright gravely came to the forefront.

Lorne then lived the same reaction everyone else had recently experienced. A blur of confusion set across the Host’s face, followed quickly by an eyebrow arch. "Well this is bizarre."

"How do you think we feel?" Zack Morris murmured. 

Lorne looked to Morris, then to Wright before settling back on Spike and Buffy. "Well this is awkward."

"Try going to England and forgetting to tell your h—" Cordy was horrified at what she almost called him. She hoped she could quickly recover and no one would notice. "How can someone conveniently forget they saw someone’s best friend and helped them through an apocalypse?"

"Well…" Lorne looked around the small crowd. "Am I going to listen to all of your fine voices today?"

Fred’s hesitant voice rose above the others. "We decided that Spike and Buffy need to sing."

Wesley nodded as he wrapped a protective arm around his fiancée’s waist. "We feel Zack Wright and Morris should sing as well." He paused briefly to cast a glance to his pregnant friend. "And Cordelia and Kelly for good measure."

Cordy looked terrified. "Me?!? I don’t think there’s anything you’ll gain from me that you won’t get from Zack!"

"Actually, listening to you might be good," Lorne admitted. "Reading you both can help me determine Zack—" He looked over to an annoyed Morris. "Wright specific visions and what’s part of the LA crew. Same goes for Zack Morris and Kelly."

"Right then," Spike drawled. "Let’s get down to business." He and Buffy were desperate to find out answers.

"Ladies first," Morris sneered as they all sat themselves at the front row of tables.

"The letter C comes before K in the alphabet so Cordy first," Kelly said as she plopped down in a chair and pulled William onto her lap.

"I still don’t like this me part," the brunette whined. "Can’t Fred or Wes do this?"

Lorne gave her a sympathetic smile. "I really think it all comes down to you sugarlips."

Cordy looked torn between sobbing and killing someone as she made her way to the stage. As she approached the band she tried to request "Big Girls Don’t Cry," but was informed that today was Beatles-theme karaoke.

There was only one song she could imagine singing right now.

_"Help! I need somebody!"_

"Well…she bloody went and picked the perfect one," Spike mumbled as he went to pull out his cigarettes.

_"Help! Not just anybody! Help! You know I need someone. Help!"_

As horrible as she sounded, Wright couldn’t help but smile as she began to get more comfortable on stage.

_"When I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody’s help in any way. But now these days are gone, I’m not so self assured. Now I find I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors."_

The room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable with Cordelia’s vocals, just as she was growing much more comfortable with her moment in the spotlight.

 _"And now my life has changed in oh so many ways."_ She looked to Wright and gave a wink.

He wasn’t smiling as much anymore as trying to hide the humiliation in his eyes. _"My independence seems to vanish in the haze. But every now and then I feel so insecure. I know that I just need you like I’ve never done before."_

"I hope that Lorne has his reading soon because I’m not sure how much more this crowd can take." Gunn gestured to the room and Fred looked to see several patrons fleeing toward the doors.

"Help me if you can, I’m feeling down." She was now putting a little hip action into the mix. "And I do appreciate you being ‘round. Help me, get my feet back on the ground. Won’t you please, please help me!"

The music ended on that note. Cordy looked up in disappointment. "Hey! There’s another verse."

"Trust me honey bunch, I’m helping you out right now." When Cordy’s eyes filled with hurt, the Host quickly added. "I got a full reading and I really need more information. You were great Cordy."

Kelly and Cordy switched places. She hated this idea nearly as much as Cordelia did, but she took some comfort in knowing that her years with Zack and Spike had given her quite a repertoire of Beatles hits to choose from. With a quick whisper to the band, she was comforted they knew her selection. She began one of her favorite lullabies to Rosie and William.

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life."_

The room stood still.

"Did she always sing this well?" Buffy asked in shock.

"It comes and goes," Zack admitted, never tearing his eyes away from his wife on stage.

_"You were only waiting for this moment to arise. Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird fly."_

Cordy’s hormones were getting to her as she began to cry.

_"Blackbird fly. Into the light of a dark black night. Blackbird fly. Blackbird fly. Into the light of a dark black night. Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life."_

A sense of calm momentarily filled everyone. 

_"You were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

The serenity was completely ruined back Zack Morris as Kelly ended her number and walked off the stage. He sing-songed his taunt to Wright. "My wife sings better than yours."

"The epitome of maturity," Wesley grumbled.

"Zack," Lorne called.

"What?" the two men even had similar voices.

"Morris. On stage please."

"…Right." Zack wasn’t nervous about his moment in the spotlight. It seemed the past decade had been nothing but an endless stream of antics. Spike and Zangy had been a dynamic duo—achieving everything from forming the Dysfunctionals, to starting up a corporation, to working to produce that Broadway show and stopping endless apocalypses.

What made Zack so nervous now was an intrinsic knowledge that something was terribly wrong. The past had been a lie—at least the past before the PTB had placed him and Spike together. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want to know the truth. He wanted to go back to the lies they had been living just a week ago. Life was so much easier then.

And he didn’t know if there was going to be a place for him once the truth came out. He didn’t want to be stuck on the outside looking in—watching the original Zangy and Spike live the friendship that he worked so long to develop.

He didn’t want to resent Zack Wright. Or Spike. Or the situation that he was in now. But how could he not?

*~*~*

"This place is amazing!"

"I just wish that you were going to be in town longer."

Willow looked at the sun setting over the Washington Monument as she sipped the coffee Sam had just bought her. "Me too."

"I mean it." Sam turned to look over at the redhead it was so enamored with. "It’s been so long since I’ve met someone so honest and genuine as you."

Willow’s face turned nearly as red as her hair. "That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time." 

Sam’s smile was more magnificent than any sunset. "It’s true. It’s been so long since I’ve met someone so…uncomplicated."

Willow choked on her mocha cappuccino.

"Oh, God!" Sam said reaching over to help her out. "I…I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying a bad come-on or anything."

"No," Willow patted his arm as she slowly regained her breath. "That’s not it." She retook her coffee and desperately tried to find the perfect words. "It’s just…I’m way complicated."

"You can’t be. All the women I’ve met in the past few months have hidden agendas. Lobbyists, lawyers, politicians. Nobody who’s just normal and down-to-earth."

Willow was screwed. "Well…I definitely don’t have a hidden agenda."

Unless you count never letting you find out the truth about who I am.

*~*~*

_"She’s not a girl who misses much. Do do do do do do do do…oh, yeah."_

"Nice choice," Wesley commented as he sipped a glass of wine. When Fred gave him a look, he shrugged. "I’m British. Of course I love the Beatles."

"Well, he does have a pleasant voice."

_"She’s well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand. Like a lizard on a window pain. The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirror on his hobnail boots. Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime. A soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the National Trust."_

And in an instant, this became more than just a moment of karaoke to Zack. This song took on a new meaning. _"I need a fix cause I’m going down. Down to the bits that I left uptown. I need a fix cause I’m going down. Mother Superior jump the gun. Mother Superior jump the gun!"_

The room wasn’t quite as comforted as they had been with Kelly’s number. _"Mother Superior jump the gun! Mother Superior jump the gun!!"_

_"Happiness is a warm gun. Happiness is a warm gun, mama. When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on you trigger. I know nobody can do no harm. Because Happiness is a warm gun, mama."_

Nobody was noticing the strange expression which had fallen upon the Host’s face.

_"Happiness is a warm gun. Yes it is! Happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun! Ahh, don’t you know that happiness is a warm gun, mama!"_

Zack Morris was quiet as he made his way off stage. With as solid performance as he just had, more than one was slightly taken aback. After he was seated, eyes fell to Lorne. His pale face didn’t soothe the tension in the room, and his shaky voice was unsettling. "Zack Wright on stage please."

*~*~*

"No."

"Well, you can’t say no."

"I decline."

Donna almost threw the blue folder in her hand at him. "It’s the last night Willow will be in town before heading off to California."

"And it’s the last night we have before the vote on HR177. Harrison and Davies are working hard, but I’m not convinced that they know what they’re getting themselves into."

Donna sighed. She loved him even when he was insufferable. "But you promised." Her voice was as weak as her argument, but she knew it would be enough to stop him for a moment.

He looked up from his desk. He enjoyed when she pouted. But he didn’t enjoy when she made him feel guilty. "Look…if it makes you feel better I would much rather go have dinner with Willow and chat about vampires and magic school. Some of us just have to stay in the world of sanity and do meaningful things."

Donna arched a brow. "Did you just equate politics with sanity?"

Dammit. He hated it when she bested him. "Meaningful things. I must do meaningful things."

"I did meaningful things," she countered as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, I am talking about meaningful things to the American people."

"I just helped organize a conference on addressing the situation in Darfur. The First Lady is going to give the keynote address to a delegation which includes representatives of all the Security Council nations."

"Yeah." He sensed he was going to lose again.

"This is a bill talking about U.S. agriculture."

"Yeah."

"My day consisted of trying to end a genocide."

"‘Kay."

"And you want to beat the Republicans and pick a fight on subsidies."

"Your point?"

"I win."

"I still can’t go have dinner with Willow."

"Will you at least come home tonight?"

They were doing a very good job at making their relationship work. There was no one else on Earth who understood the struggles each faced during a typical day. They had been successful in making time for one another as well, but there were always moments of strain.

"Yeah."

"Fine," Donna said as she turned to walk out of his office.

"Will you tell Davis I need him to find me a copy of the 1999 bill proposed by the House?"

Another stipulation of their relationship was that Josh would never have a female personal assistant again until after him and Donna were married and expecting a second child. Marriage was something they weren’t considering until after reelection and children were on the agenda for after they left the White House.

"Sure."

Josh didn’t mind this arrangement because Davis brought him coffee.

*~*~*

"I don’t remember Zack playing guitar," Buffy whispered loudly, hoisting herself onto the barstool next to Spike. "Did Zack play guitar?"

Morris raised his head wearily and favored the pair with a long, narrowed look. "Don’t tell me you guys had a band, too," he drawled, earning a thwack on the head from his disapproving wife. "I’m just saying," he clarified, "there’s only so much I can take. I think I’ve handled things very well thus far."

The comment earned a rarity: the collective snicker. Everyone in proximity, even the club patrons with unfamiliar faces, unilaterally decided Zack Morris was full of it and voiced their opinions with a loud cough.

"Yeah," he said, glowering around the room. "That was deserved."

"He doesn’t sing much," Cordelia said, dabbing her eyes. Her hormonal crying jag had subsided since Kelly stepped off stage, but every few seconds her eyes would mist over and she would begin again. It didn’t take much nowadays. "Well, not before I got pregnant."

Morris’s brows hit his hairline. "He was so happy he sang?"

"I think she meant he sings to the baby, you pillock," Spike said with a smirk, linking an arm around Buffy’s middle. "An’ for the record, Zang—Zack an’ I never had a bloody band."

"That’s right," Buffy agreed, leaning into her mate. "They were too busy solving crimes."

"We weren’t the sodding Mystery Gang, luv."

"No, that’d be me and my friends. Before I got Slayer-napped by…" She shivered and Spike kissed her brow. "You guys were…you helped people."

"Like the helpless," Fred chimed in. "You helped the helpless."

"That wasn’ our bloody slogan," Spike growled, though it was good-natured.

"Uhhh, children," Lorne said, clearing his throat and motioning to the stage. "I think the boy’s about to sing."

Wright huffed, lifting the guitar, fingers lightly drumming the strings like a lover. Then, without warning, his hands exploded into a fury, tearing very familiar chords through the room. His mouth approached the microphone with seductive ease, and before anyone could get a word in edge wise, Cordelia made a noise of utter woo.

_"When I get to the bottom, I go back to the top of the slide. Where I stop and turn and I go for a ride. Till I get to the bottom and I see you again! Yeah, yeah, yeaaaahhh…"_

"Oh. My. God," Kelly breathed.

"Hey!" Morris objected.

 _"Do you don’t you want me to love you? I’m coming down fast but I’m miles above you. Tell me tell me come on tell me the answer, and you may be a lover but you ain’t no dancer."_ He pulled the guitar back and flashed Cordelia a broad grin of promise. _"Go helter skelter. Helter skelter. Helter skelter. Yeah, huhh…"_

"Wow," Buffy said, blinking. "Yeah, I definitely don’t think he sang before. I’d remember this."

Spike chuckled but tightened his arm possessively around her waist all the same. It was a joking jest, but something needed. Something concrete. "Just wait till I get up there," he purred into her ear.

_"I will you won’t you want me to make you. I’m going down fast but don’t let me break you. Tell me tell me tell me the answer, you may be a lover, but you ain’t no dancer. Look out! Helter skelter. Helter skelter. Helter skelter. Yeaaahh, huhhhh."_

Fred wiggled and leaned into Wes. "Tell me you can sing like this."

He blushed. "Not with this…ummm…passion. It takes a certain voice to pull this off without it sounding like senseless noise."

_"Look out ‘cause here she comes! When I get to the bottom, I go back to the top of the slide, where I stop and turn and I go for a ride. Till I get to the bottom and I see you again. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well will you won’t you want me to make you. I’m coming down fast but don’t lemme break you. Tell me, tell me, come on, tell me the answer. You may be a lover but you ain’t no dancer. Look out! Helter skelter. Helter skelter. Helter skelter. Yeaaaah huh. Helter skelter. She’s comin’ down fast. Yes she is. Yes she is comin’ down fast."_

The second his hand flew up, signifying the end, the club broke out into raucous applause.

Morris crossed his arms. "It was okay."

Wright inhaled sharply, wiping off the sweat on his brow with his shirt sleeve. "Someone sounds jealous," he said smirking.

"No." But there was no denying he was pouting.

"It’s okay," Kelly said lovingly, running her fingers through her husband’s hair. "I still like you better."

"All right." Lorne slapped his hands together. "Buffykins?"

She winced and buried her face in Spike’s shoulder. "Oh…really?"

He nodded. "You’re up."


	8. Chapter 8

"You know what I like about you?"

"My charming smile, girlish dimples, and dazzling personality?"

Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Well, yes."

"I am very good at games like this."

"That might be, but I’m referring to your amazing ability to not answer a simple question."

Willow perked a brow. "What question have I failed to answer?"

"You still haven’t told me where you work."

Oh right. That. "I’m a teacher."

"Yes, and that explains what you do, not at all where you do it."

"Does it really matter where?"

Sam nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if I want to call you, I want to know where you’ll be."

It was fortunate she had nothing spittable in her mouth at the moment; it had been a long time since a Willow spit-take, but if she’d learned anything in the last year, it was nothing was impossible if one shot high enough. "When I’m not in DC, you mean. When I’m…where I work."

"Yes."

"I work in England. I teach in England. I teach at a school in England."

"Oxford?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No."

"That’s in England."

"Yes."

"You teach in England."

"Yes."

"But you don’t teach at Oxford."

Willow tilted her head. "There’s more than one school in England."

The charming thing about Sam was his ability to look really befuddled at information he already possessed. More so to say the following and make the grin on her face genuine and not sympathetic, "Honest to God, I did not know that."

"Sam—"

"How’d you land a job teaching in England?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "The headmaster met me and, as men are prone to do, found me very delightful."

"I don’t know if I like the sound of this."

"He’s about ten thousand years old."

"That’s better." Sam smiled softly, reaching for her hand. "So…England."

"Yeah."

"That’s quite a phone bill."

"Yeah."

"Not to mention quite a drive."

"You don’t drive to England."

"What do you do?"

"Fly. Or sail. But flying’s faster." Willow drew in a deep breath, shaking. Things were progressing fast. Really fast. She knew Sam was only talking a casual date here and there, but after having spent the day with him, she could easily envision herself wanting to spend many more days with him. He was smart and funny and looked very nice in his glasses. And when he smiled at her, her legs did this weird flesh-to-jelly thing and made her wobble like some silly girl-who-wobbles. Sparkage was definitely there.

He thought she was genuine and uncomplicated.

She was a witch who taught at a school for witchcraft and wizardry. Oh, and she’d tried to destroy the world at least once.

Yeah. Uncomplicated.

"I’m going to California tomorrow," she said, her tone indicative of apology and driving their daylong flirtation to its untimely but sadly necessary end. "I’m going to California."

The light in his eyes dimmed, something she shouldn’t have found promising but did anyway. Anyone who looked that desolate at the prospect of her leaving was someone really wonderful. Especially after one day.

"California," he repeated.

"Yeah."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "You know what’s in California?"

_Vampires, apocalypses, and soul-sucking demons?_

"Sand?" she ventured instead.

"Yes. And my district."

"What?"

"My district. The 47th district of California is, incidentally, in California." A slow smile drew across his incredibly handsome face. "And you know what’s close to the 47th? California’s 42nd."

"Sam—"

"That’s Los Angeles County."

"Sam, you’re not seriously—"

"I think it’s time I paid my county a visit. I am the voice of the people…or that fraction of the people. I should pay them a visit."

Willow blinked. "Out of nowhere?"

"No, out of JFK."

"Out of the clear blue sky?"

"In a way."

"Sam, you can’t be serious."

"I’ll tell them I’m running for something." He brightened. "Come to think of it, I am."

"Yeah, but you’re not flying out there to see them."

He shrugged. "They don’t have to know that."

She sighed, exasperated. "Yes. Well…why?"

"Because, if it’s not painfully obvious, I like you. I like you a lot. You’re clever and funny and very intelligent, and you don’t want anything from me. I don’t get that much anymore." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I haven’t gotten that since I got into professional politics, actually. But I like you a lot, and I don’t think I’m overreaching if I say you like me, too. I’d like, Willow, very much, to take you out."

It was hard to form words, mainly because her throat had run very dry. "Out?"

"Yes."

"Out…where?"

He gestured broadly. "Out there. In the world. Where people are. People and food and theatre. I want to court you."

There must have been a moment not too long ago when she dozed off, because this was beginning to sound like the fantasy conversations she’d silently entertained since meeting him. "You don’t know me."

"I think you’re misunderstanding the point of dating."

"Sam—"

"We go out to get to know each other. If we like each other, which I think we will because we already do, we keep on dating. If we don’t, we part amicably and return to our lives." He took a brave step forward. "Because I like you a lot, Willow. And really, coming from me, that’s a lot."

"It’s a lot for you to like someone?"

"Yes. No. I mean, it’s a lot for me to come out and say it." Sam grinned sheepishly. "I’m not usually this bold."

"You could’ve fooled me."

"I need to visit my district. There’s no earthly reason why I shouldn’t take you to dinner afterwards."

A warm blush kissed her cheek. It was impossible to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

So she didn’t. Instead, she said, "Okay."

*~*~*

_"There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done. Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung. Nothing you can say, but you can learn how to play the game. It’s easy."_

Buffy’s eyes found Spike’s, and she eased a bit at his encouraging smile. Her voice wasn’t something she enjoyed showcasing, but with his help, it didn’t seem so terrifying. Her time in Spike and Zack’s band had been minimal at best; most of her best singing occurred in the shower, especially if Spike was there to help her hit the high notes.

_"Nothing you can make that can’t be made. No one you can save that can’t be saved. Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time. It’s easy! All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is love…love…love is all you need."_

"She’s much better than she thinks she is," Lorne mentioned to Spike, crossing his arms.

"She’s a bloody angel, you git."

"Yeah. I’ll talk to you when your glasses aren’t so rose-colored." The big green demon snickered and rolled his eyes. "It’s nerves that’s doing her in. Bet her stud’s helped her wheedle most of them out."

He concluded by slapping a hand on Spike’s shoulder; something Spike did not at all appreciate.

"‘Case you didn’t notice, I’m tryin’ to listen to my lady."

 _"All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is love, love. Love is all you need."_ Ostensibly gaining confidence, Buffy began to let her hips sway. _"Nothing you can know that isn’t known. Nothing you can see that isn’t shown. Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be. It’s easy. All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is love, love. Love is all you need."_

She smiled modestly when her friends broke out in gracious applause.

"All right, bucko," Lorne said, nudging Spike’s shoulder. His expression hadn’t quite healed itself since Zack Morris sang, but he had yet to divulge and it didn’t look like he would be in share-mood until everyone had taken a turn.

It was a bloody nuisance, but it wasn’t like he didn’t understand. Thus, meeting Buffy halfway, he favored her lips with a soft kiss and whispered, "You were amazing."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I mean it."

Buffy rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder. "Spike, really, you have me. I’m not going anywhere. Now…" She leaned forward and smiled against his mouth. "How about we show Cordy that you don’t need to rock in order to rock, if you catch my drift."

"Are you saying I can’t sing Helter Skelter?"

"I’m saying that when you sing slow, you turn me into Slayer-goo and you’ll be a very happy vamp when we get home."

"I’m a happy vamp anyway."

She smirked. "I have ways of making you happier."

Of that he had no doubt. That mouth of hers was intoxicating. Thus, with a parting kiss, he turned and seized the stage.

"Hope you don’t mind if I borrow this, mate," Spike said, plucking Wright’s discarded guitar off the floor.

Wright arched a brow. "It’s Lorne’s. I don’t carry guitars with me."

"Well, I’m definitely borrowing it then." Spike settled on the stool, tugging the mic stand closer to him. "All right."

It was impossible to tell if Spike’s fingers manipulated the guitar strings with more dexterity than Wright’s, the tones of their selected songs were so different. The thing that wasn’t impossible to tell was the instantly-dreamy look in Buffy’s eyes, though by this time, most everyone in proximity was used to this. She liked to talk a big game, even pretend she wasn’t as infatuated as her overly-protective mate, but she was nuts for a guy who sang.

_"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup. They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe. Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind. Possessing and caressing me…"_

" _Jai guru deva om,"_ the crowd supplied rhythmically. There was no need at all for backup singers.

Spike met Buffy’s eyes. _"Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world."_

She smiled.

_"Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes, they call me on and on across the universe. Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box. They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe."_

_"Jai guru deva om."_

_"Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world."_

Spike’s fingers strummed the strings elegantly.

"It’s kind of embarrassing how you drool over him," Cordy told Buffy, crossing her arms.

Morris and Kelly barbed her with identical you’re-such-a-hypocrite glares.

"What?"

"Cordy, we had to restrain you from having sex with Zack on the stage," Buffy noted.

Morris raised his hand. "Please never say that again. Someone might confuse it for me."

Cordelia shifted. "Well…that’s different."

"Yeah. Because he’s yours. Spike is mine." Buffy’s eyes shifted back to her vampire, and she smirked at his smirk, knowing full well he’d heard every word. "Plus…uber hot British man singing for me?"

"One you’ve seen naked a thousand times," Kelly observed.

"That just makes him sexier."

"He’s singing because he has to."

Buffy shook her head. "No. Trust me. He’s singing for me."

_"Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open views, inciting and inviting me. Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe."_

_"Jai guru deva om."_

_"Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world."_

The concluding verse repeated itself several times before Spike’s played to a graceful conclusion. Like Wright and Morris before him, he was met with thunderous applause and found his arms full of warm Slayer within seconds.

"You know what that does to me," Buffy murmured into his ear.

Spike grinned. "Why do you think I do it?" he shot back, pinching her arse for good measure.

"All right. All right." Lorne waved. "Before I have to draw out the world’s longest hose to separate you guys—"

"Hey!" Zack and Zack shouted in unison.

"I meant all of you from…all of you. Not just these two crazy lovebirds." He gestured to Spike and Buffy. "I bring you back to the present…you all sang. You’ve all been read. And you’re all here to debunk the recent wackiness."

It was strange the way those words could bring the roof crashing down. The playfulness of the last few sets evaporated immediately. For a few precious minutes, the real world had been indefinitely shut out. For a few minutes, it’d been as though they were playing solely for each other.

But that wasn’t why they were here, and anything else was an attempt at fooling themselves.

In the end, it was Fred who voiced the question. "What did you see?"

There was a long pause.

"Well, kiddies," Lorne said. "You got yourselves a pickle." First, he turned and aimed a meaningful glance at Zack Morris, who startled perceptively and swallowed hard. "You."

"Me?"

"Your path is covered in shadows, poopykins."

Wright snickered. "Poopykins."

"I wouldn’t talk, shitface," Morris snarled.

"No," Lorne said, holding up a hand. "You don’t understand what I’m saying, sugar plums. I’m speaking directly to Mr. Happy-With-Guns, but his paths intrinsically connected to everyone else here."

"I sang Happiness is a Warm Gun and now I’m Mr. Happy Guns?"

"Zack!" Kelly hissed. "Lorne’s trying to tell you something."

"Yes, I am," the Host said patiently. "You’re in a bad place right now, and it can only get worse. It’s very important that you not take everything personally. Remember who you are before trying to become who you think he—" He waved to Spike. "—wants you to be."

Zack shifted uncomfortably. "Wow. You made me sound really gay just then."

"Are we surprised?" Wright muttered.

Cordelia thwapped him upside the head. "Play nice. He already has a lot to compete with. I mean, your singing."

"At least I can carry a tune," Morris snapped.

"I might stop to make the point that this is exactly what I’m talking about," Lorne announced loudly. "You’re taking everything very personally."

Morris rolled his eyes. "Well, it’s hard to—"

"Enough!" Spike barked. "Look, you bloody git, you’re like my brother, but if you don’ shut your gob, I’ll be forced to rip your throat out. You hear me?"

Morris and Wright looked equally taken aback, but neither spoke.

"That brings up another interesting point," Lorne observed cheerfully. Then frowned. "…not the ‘ripping out your throat’ bit."

Kelly made a face. "Then what?"

"The ‘shut your gob?’" Cordelia volunteered. "Because that was sound advice."

"Pwease don’t kill my daddy," William whined.

Spike rolled his eyes. "William, if I was gonna kill your daddy, believe me, it’d have been well before you were born."

Oddly enough, this assurance struck the child as rather comforting. He returned to playing with Rosie.

"No, the brother thing," Lorne said, his patience not what it had been two seconds ago. "The brother thing. You—" He pointed at Wright. "And you." He aimed his finger at Morris. "You two…are indeed brothers."

With as expected as that revelation was, it would not have been evident for the way the room reacted: dead stunned silence.

"No way," Wright complained, only there was no conviction. Before anyone could interrupt again, he released a resigned sigh. "Okay. Way. But how?"

"And what does this have to do with their memories being altered or…wiped out?" Fred asked.

"I’m getting there, munchkin," Lorne assured her.

"Munchkin. She gets munchkin, and I’m poopykins." Morris threw his hands in the air. "Yeah. And I’m not supposed to take this personally."

"Back to what I was saying before I was interrupted for the tenth time," Lorne growled through gritted teeth. "You two are brothers. You share, as I’m sure you’ve already pieced together, a father. Your mothers are two different women."

"Mine was a cocktail waitress who disappeared when I was seventeen," Wright offered bitterly.

"Mine’s a housewife that just…made us cookies." Morris frowned sympathetically. "Your mother disappeared?"

The fact that it was the first sign of something other than hostility to go between the newly revealed brothers wasn’t wasted on anyone; they simply chose not to comment, else the effect be lost.

"It turns out, among other things, that Derek Morris planned the pregnancy with Amelia Wright," Lorne continued. "And he did it for a very specific purpose."

"To fuck up my mother’s life?" Wright ventured.

"Your mother loved you," Cordelia objected.

"Love or not, it was still fucked up."

Zack Morris had only one question. Well, that wasn’t true. He had a ton of questions. Just one that demanded immediate satisfaction. "When?"

"When what?"

"When…" He turned to Wright. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-seven."

Morris paled, something rather miraculous considering he was a vampire. "And your birthday…"

"December 12th."

"I’m…my…" Morris swallowed hard. "That would’ve been…my parents’ honeymoon."

"Wow, your dad works fast," Gunn remarked. He blinked and held up his hands when he became the target of everyone’s glare. "Okay. Wrong time to make that joke."

"That’s not the disturbing part," Lorne continued.

"Well, by all means," Wright snapped. "Tell us the disturbing part."

"I would if people would stop interrupting me!" It took a minute for the Host to gather his bearings; for a second, the horns on his head had almost glowed orange. "Okay…what, exactly, is your father’s occupation?"

He aimed this question at Morris, as he knew Wright wouldn’t have the answer.

"He’s a…computer salesman," Zack Morris offered. "He owns…Morris Industries. I don’t know any more than that…I was in trouble every summer, so I never got to take the internship he promised when I was five."

"Wow, you got an internship promise when you were five?" Fred demanded excitedly. "I only got a red wagon."

"Well, I got my cell phone before that."

"Yes, it sounds like you’re very entitled to being the whiny bastard you’ve been the past three days," Wright growled.

"Well, at least I’m not the literal bastard."

Spike literally had to throw himself between the two brothers to keep them from attacking each other. "Sod off," the elder vampire snarled. "The both of you. We’re here for answers, right? Answers we’re not going to get if you don’t—"

"You didn’t just find out your dad was off making babies with random women on his honeymoon!"

"No, I just found out the last ten bloody years of my life have been erased. I can’t imagine why I’m at all interested in what the Jolly Green Giant has to say." Spike concluded with a disgusted shove which sent Morris to the floor. "Zangy, I swear to whatever vamps swear to. You either get in line or get the hell out."

He turned and marched back to Buffy without another word.

"For the record, I—"

"You too," Spike snapped at Wright. "One of you talks an’ necks are gonna snap. An’ I promise it won’t be mine." Calmer now, he turned back to Lorne. "You were sayin’?"

"Yeah," the Host agreed, a little rattled. "And while the tension is extra high, just as we ordered, the point behind my question was this…" He turned to Morris, who had a stoic, stormy, unreadable expression plastered across his face. "When you sang…and when your…uhhh…brother sang…it came in clear as a whistle. Derek Morris made a deal."

The room fell silent for the first time since Lorne had announced the two Zacks were brothers. And since neither Zack was speaking now, it was Kelly’s turn to step up to the plate. "Made a deal?" she ventured, only because it seemed the green demon was waiting for prodding.

"With Wolfram and Hart."

Collectively, Cordelia, Gunn, Fred, Wesley, Nikki, and Rosalie groaned and dropped their heads into their waiting hands.

"Wow, that was freaky," Buffy muttered.

"I don’ see how anyone is at all surprised," Spike agreed.

"The deal was simple…success in business in exchange for pure blood." A pause. "Pure Morris blood."

Wright frowned but, with a cautionary glance to Spike, opted not to say anything.

"Pure blood isn’t…well…it’s nothing you can just offer up. The world is a haven of sin, as we all know perfectly well." Lorne chose this moment to laugh loudly, even though it wasn’t funny. The laugh lasted a good ninety seconds before dying down and abruptly resuming the reveal. "Point being," he said as though he hadn’t just laughed for ninety seconds, "in order to procure pure blood—true pure blood—it has to be taken from the womb of a pregnant woman."

He paused, then turned fully to Wright.

"All your life, you’ve been terrorized with tragedy after tragedy. The loss of your mother. The murder of your first wife and her unborn son. Even the promise of prosperity which seems to have blossomed since you and Mr. Marlboro—" He waved at Wesley, "—took over Angelstuds Investigations. It’s because of the reason you were conceived—by no means an accident, nor is your survival. You were supposed to be the sacrifice."

Wright just stood there, floored.

Lorne paused. "It gets worse."

He swallowed hard. "Thanks for the warning?"

"Amelia evaded Derek by going into labor earlier than anticipated. You were born, and the second your skin touched the air, you were no good to him."

"Yes," Wright drawled. "He’s made that abundantly clear."

"But you still had his blood. Morris blood. He could have easily sacrificed his legitimate son…" He waved to Morris, who was still sitting stonily on the floor where Spike had tossed him. "But it wasn’t…oh say…convenient. Derek wanted a convenient sacrifice. A small girl of no consequence was much easier to dispose than a woman like Melody, who had family and connections and a place in society where she wouldn’t be overlooked. But you were still here and there was nothing he could do but see if your actions made a profitable turn." A pause. "Which they did, when you married Amber Ryans."

Blood drained from Wright’s face. "Wait…"

"He tried with Rosalie at first."

"I’m gonna kill him."

"He succeeded when—"

Wright held up a hand. "I fucking _know_ when he succeeded. I know that. You don’t have to—"

"—only he didn’t. Darla was a valuable instrument, but she was a little too overly-zealous when it came to you. Her part in the bargain was supposed to be limited to getting the baby. She became interested in getting you. Turning you into her new Angelus." Lorne sighed. "When you denied her, she ripped—"

_"Stop."_

"The baby wasn’t pure."

"He fucking was, you sick—"

"Enough!" Cordelia shouted, one hand on her belly, the other in the air. "Enough. Okay, Lorne? We got it. We understand. Don’t do this to him now."

Lorne laughed harshly. "Understand? Kiddo, you don’t even know the half of it. You think it ends there?" He shook his head and turned to Zack Morris. "After Amber died, Wright became unreachable. Moving from place to place, over-prepared, training day night, building a fortress around whatever place he and his daughter crashed for the night. So he had to give up Zack Wright as being a viable option for settling his debt. Time was running out for him…and his only acknowledged son was getting married."

Kelly gasped, her eyes immediately falling on her children, who were still playing, oblivious.

Lorne nodded wearily. "You kids remember that crazy night That Shall Not Be Referenced?"

It was possibly the only thing that could draw Zack Morris out of his self-imposed stoicism. Darkness clouded his eyes and he bounded eagerly to his feet. "That was my father?" he demanded. "That was—"

"Kelly was pregnant."

"He tried to _kill_ —"

"Yes. And he didn’t." Lorne motioned to Rosie. "She’s right there. Not for nothing, it was also the reason he campaigned so heavily against the two of you marrying. He’d hoped his boy would adapt his father’s wandering…oh, shall we say…penis and impregnate someone of no consequence so he wouldn’t interfere with…you two."

"Well, isn’t he a fucking prince?" Wright hissed.

"And when Kelly became pregnant again?" Zack asked harshly. "When we were at Hogwarts for Snape’s birthday minstrel show?"

"The craziness that ensued?" Lorne agreed. "Thanks to one Derek Morris, all to get at little William there."

"That sonofa—"

"Oh my God."

"—bitch."

All eyes fell on Wright.

"What?" Cordelia asked.

But he couldn’t look at her; his eyes were glued on her swollen stomach.

"Hey Mikey, I think he gets it," Lorne drawled.

"No. Fucking. Way." Wright leapt in front of Cordelia as though she would be attacked at any moment. "He’s not touching her. He’s not touching her. I’ll rip him limb from limb. I’ll—"

Cordelia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetie? Ummm, I think it’s okay to…not be so close at the moment."

He didn’t bother acknowledging her. "If that miserable asshole thinks he can—"

"It’s okay."

"NO IT’S NOT OKAY!" Wright screamed, whirling around and seizing Cordelia by the shoulders. "You weren’t there. YOU DIDN’T SEE WHAT THEY DID TO HER! I WILL NOT LET HIM DO THAT TO YOU? DO YOU HEAR ME? THAT BASTARD IS GOING TO PAY FOR—"

Cordelia silenced him quickly by dragging his rapidly disintegrating face into the crook of her neck, her arms going around him as he broke down. "I know," she whispered, though the look in her eyes betrayed no knowledge. She was petrified, but strong. She knew she had to be for this. "I know."

"That brings me," Lorne said awkwardly, aiming his gaze at Spike, "to you."

Spike said nothing, merely tugged Buffy closer to him.

"Your memories were tampered with by Wolfram and Hart."

They both nodded. This was no surprise.

"The closeness you two reached after…well, what happened before. With…"

"The thing where I was kidnapped, tortured, and raped until Spike and Zack saved me?" Buffy offered meekly, a watery but resilient smile on her face.

"Yeah."

"It’s okay to say it."

"No it’s bloody not," Spike insisted, shuddering. "I can’t—"

"The thing is…the Senior Partners knew how formidable you were after that. Especially when you had allies as strong as Zack Wright."

Zack Wright had stopped weeping almost immediately, but had yet to pull himself from Cordelia’s arms. Instead, he just looked blearily over at the vamps in question.

"Furthermore, the bond between the two of you is as strong as any force there is," Lorne continued. "You’re mated, for one thing, but unlike other mated vamps, your relationship isn’t one of idle convenience. You love, respect, and trust each other. Together, you make a helluva force…and they knew when it came down to it, if you wanted to stop whatever apocalypse they started, there was no way to stop you. So they relied on the only thing they could…ripping away the memories of the good and replacing it with the bad."

Spike trembled. Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Only they couldn’t do as thorough a job as they would’ve liked," Lorne went on. "The claim was always there, whispering the truth. You heard it when you tried, and Buffy, sweet thing, did her best to ignore it."

Spike scoffed his agreement. Buffy elbowed him, but with a grin.

"The events that happened in the faux universe were designed to dismantle the trust and love and respect…and it did for a while. But not forever. Those things can never be permanently revoked, especially when under the protection of the most sacred blood rite in the world." Lorne paused for a second. "It was also important for Wolfram and Hart to keep you and Zack Wright apart…dealing with Buffy and Spike together was bad enough without Wright as an ally. They orchestrated the move that put a country between you two…only your paths are so entwined, it couldn’t be evaded. Memories were lost but new alliances were gained." He motioned to Zack and Kelly Morris. "Alliances which proved just as formidable as the one forged with Zack Wright. And why shouldn’t it? They’re brothers."

There was a long, meaningful silence.

"So…" Spike said slowly. "You’re sayin’…my havin’ Zangy as my wingman…then Zangy as my wingman…"

"That’s another thing!" Lorne cried. "The nickname! You gave both Zacks the same nickname. It was another way your subconscious was trying to alert you of the world you’d forgotten."

"You can imagine how much I care about the nickname right now."

"Yeah."

"An’ that’s it then? The mojo was broken when I saw Zang…Wright. It hasn’t come back."

"And it won’t."

"But that doesn’t explain why we’re here."

"Of course it does! Don’t you get it?" Lorne waved his arms excitedly. "The deadline is drawing to a close. Derek Morris has to produce that pure blood before…I don’t know when, but sometime soon. The major players gravitated here together. You think you’re seeing your mother now was an accident?" He demanded Morris. "Or that trip through the cemetery that ultimately brought you here? Something big is in the works, kittens. And it only gets worse from here."

"There’s more?" Fred gawked.

"No. I’m just saying, from here, this moment, it can only go downhill."

"You’re not the most optimistic of fortune tellers," Gunn sneered, though his eyes were large with panic.

"And that’s why I’m stressing this…" He turned to Morris. "It’s coming fast. And it’s coming for you. You gotta remember who you are."

"Yeah, it’s coming fast but it’s coming for Cordy," he countered. "I think we better protect her."

"Agreed," Wright said, nodding swiftly.

"Uhhh…it might not be coming for me at all," Cordelia ventured with a grimace. "I think…I’m having contractions."

*~*~*

"Do you need another coffee?"

"I need a House of Representatives that isn’t full of incompetent douchebags." Josh looked up to see Davis staring at him with blank confusion. "Yeah…coffee would be nice."

*~*~*

The trip to Sacred Heart was quick and made in relative silence—a complete opposite of the past hour. As they all rushed into the emergency room, all of the hostility they had once felt for one another was immediately replaced with a solidarity and concern for the weakest of their ranks. Priority number one was now placed on Cordelia and her unborn child.

"Seriously, the pain has subsided some. I know I can at least walk."

"Doctor!" Wesley shouted as they walked into the waiting room. "Doctor! We need a doctor!"

"Hey you!" Morris said as he snatched a scraggly look guy in scrubs. "Are you a doctor?"

"Well, people who don’t know me well call me that." Morris pushed the guy with the nametag ‘Doug’ far away.

"Seriously Zack. You can stop carrying me now." Wright hadn’t let a lack of wheelchair stop him once they reached the parking lot.

"Pregnant woman in distress here!" Wright called out frantically.

Since her man had chosen not to acknowledge her vocal presence, Cordy turned to the womenfolk for a little help. "Can you please explain to them that this is totally unnecessary."

Kelly and Buffy shook their heads in disappointment. "You didn’t see them when Rosie was born…or William."

"Zack is probably reliving the horror of having his son born on our brand new Denver mattress."

"Really?" Fred was no longer as concerned now that they were safe inside the hospital.

"Yeah," Buffy continued. "Zack and Spike had to deliver Will because the mom-to-be had a bit of a Cheetos fetish. One of the many reasons that William is Spike’s namesake." She looked around and noticed the absence of her mate. "Spike?"

Out of nowhere Spike appeared from around a corner and faced his posse. With one arm he held up a terrified man in blue scrubs. "I found one! They call him Dorian!"

"Please don’t hurt me," the man squeaked. "I bruise easy!"

After that moment, a rush of events took place as a strong, Latina nurse came forward and took control of the situation. Within minutes Cordy and Zack were ushered off to a room and everyone else was placed in a nearby waiting room. As Dr. Dorian and Nurse Espinosa were treating their friend, the rest of the gang was forced to do something in which they had had very little success: waiting.

"I’m sure everything is fine," Kelly reassured the group as she searched her purse for Gummy Bears for the children…and her husband. "More than likely she’s just experiencing gas or cramps due to something she ate or the stress of the situation."

"How would you know?" Nikki snapped.

Kelly turned a cold eye to the woman who had offended her son at a donut shop. "I don’t know, maybe the two pregnancies that I’ve experienced in the last decade. Being such a tremendous bitch. Wow…where did you gain such experience in that field?"

Even those who didn’t know her well could sense that it was a very rare day when Kelly let her temper get the best of her. But those who did, knew that once provoked Kelly’s anger wasn’t as much of a laughing matter as one might think. Her vampire strength coupled with her unpredictability could very easily cause a world of damage. 

"Mommy, I’m hungry." Rosie had a more than one gift. Besides her gift of Sight, she had the power to know when to keep quiet and when to make her presence known. Her voice was enough to calm Kelly down and keep Nikki from her next retort.

"I want a kumquat," William pleaded.

When the LA crew gave an odd glance to the child, Morris felt the need to explain. "Giles likes to teach him new words." He paused. "And I like the word kumquat."

Spike nodded. "Sounds dirty, but isn’t."

Kelly sighed. "Let’s go find you some food." She picked up William and reached down for Rosie’s hand.

"I’ll come with you," Rosalie announced as she stood up to follow.

"I need to have a smoke," Zack said sympathetically to his wife.

"You know those things will kill you," Fred said without thought.

Zack couldn’t do anything but to turn to her and blink. Gunn was the one to state the obvious. "I have a feeling that it was likely the loss of blood that ended up killing him."

"But thanks for your concern. Means a lot." With that Morris walked over to give each of his children a hug and his wife a tender kiss on the lips. He then proceeded to walk out into the sunshine.

*~*~*

"I don’t trust you."

"Zack!" Cordy hissed. "He’s the doctor."

"I don’t care. I want a second opinion."

J.D. tried to put on an air of condescension that he felt all doctors were entitled to in situations such as these. "Look Mr. Chase—"

"Wright," Zack said through gritted teeth.

"Yes," he said in a haughty tone. "I trust you that my years of medical school as well as my time here as co-chief resident have granted me the knowledge to know when a woman is in labor or not."

"Talk to me like that again, kid, and I’m gonna test how easily you bruise."

*~*~*

"Well then," Spike drawled as he and Zack looked on at a basketball game in progress. "Nice weather." When Zack offered no response, Spike continued with the pointless. "I heard this joke last week. Forgot to mention it. There was a plumber, a rabbi and an elephant trainer. The rabbi went to Saskatchewan and—"

"What the fuck is happening here?"

"Well, you interrupted what was going to be a very amusin’ joke, mate."

"I mean—"

I know what you meant, you wanker. I just…let’s just wait until we know she’s all righ’ before we start in on the Drama Express once again. Okay?"

Zack took a long drag of his cigarette, still focusing his gaze on the basketball players. "Yeah." An exhale of smoke. "But what do we do in the meantime?"

"What we do best."

"Mischief."

"Exactly."

*~*~*

"Thank you for coming," JD said obnoxiously to the man that entered the room.

"Sorry," Cordy said sheepishly. "Zack here wanted a second opinion."

"I told them that she was fine. She had already admitted that she had a chili cheese burrito for lunch and she had experienced a big emotional trauma right before the pains began."

Wright looked at the newest arrival. "Seriously? He’s not a real doctor, is he?"

"Patricia here? He just fills in for me while I catch up on GH. Now tell me Mr. Chase why you aren’t convinced that your wife isn’t going to be fine."

Zack thought that stating the obvious would be a little much for a couple of strangers to understand, so he decided to let it go. "Can we at least have an ultrasound or something?"

The new doctor gave an almost reassuring smirk. "Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?"

*~*~*

The first game Spike and Zack decided to play in their quest to avoid any seriousness was a hunt for blood. Since they didn’t think they would be met with a warm reception from their wives if they took any samples from the patients, they went in search of finding the blood bank.

This required them to don white coats. The stethoscopes were totally for kicks. With their attire, and their awesome sense of smell, they made their way to the where they believed the blood was stashed. When they entered the room, they were disappointed to find the space occupied with another man.

"I need ten CCs of O positive…stat!" Zack called out in his best imitation of a soap opera ER physician.

"Right," Spike said never leaving character. "We have to save Timmy or he’ll never get the new heart."

"Can I help you?" The man in the corner with the blueberry muffin asked.

"Yes, we came for the ten CCs to take up to the OR. I’m sorry but we don’t have time for formalities."

The muffin man didn’t seemed convinced. "And you are…?"

"I am Dr. Killingspree and this is my assistant…"

"Dr. Lecter."

It took all of Spike’s self-control not to laugh out loud. And there was a definite taste of blood coming from the bite on his tongue.

Dr. Killingspree sighted the blood and decided to take charge. "We must hurry if Timmy is going to make it." With that he ran to the fridge and grabbed a shelf-full of blood bags. Zack was hungry and decided to follow suit.

Luckily they ran faster than the old git and were down the hall before he could finish his muffin. After they were clearly out of harms way, Zack had to ask. "What the fuck is a CC?"

"Hell if I know." With that he ripped open one of the bags and began to drink his fill.

The last thing the two hellions expected was someone to come out of the once-perceived deserted stairwell. Spike and Zack froze in shock, blood dripping down the platinum blonde’s chin. The newcomer’s response was enough to warrant a world of respect.

Dr. Cox paused for a brief moment. "Fair enough." And with that he continued his journey down the hall.

Spike and Zack looked at one another and then once to Cox. With a shrug, they went back to their afternoon snack.

*~*~*

"I’m so sorry," Cordelia whined to Carla as soon as Zack stepped out of the room. "He’s being a little overprotective." She sighed. "I can’t blame him, but another ultrasound is a little much."

Carla smiled. "All fathers are overprotective like this. Doesn’t matter the circumstances. We’re just gonna wait for the machine and the OB-GYN on call to come up and observe."

"Thank you," Cordy said with a watery smile.

*~*~*

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Wright walked around the corner just in time to catch Spike and Zack each chugging another bag full of blood. Though slightly started, both finished their drink before acknowledging him with identical shrugs.

"Is she all right?" Spike asked.

Wright sighed and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I think so, but we’re waiting on an ultrasound just to be sure."

Morris nodded, not knowing what to say. He hated the false ring of ‘everything will be fine.’ And after a day like they had already experienced, he had no idea what else could be in store—aside from Lorne’s dire predictions. "She’s a fighter."

The two brothers looked up at one another. For the first time, they had decided to look toward the bigger picture. "Yeah," Wright confirmed. With a quick nod, he turned around and began to walk away. "I better go check on her."

"We’ll be here, mate," Spike said as he grabbed a couple of the remaining bags and slipped them in his pockets. "Let us know what’s up."

As Wright left their presence, Morris gathered Spike’s wavelength. "Cafeteria?"

"Right."


	9. Chapter 9

Josh was pleased with himself. As he placed his last phone call of the day he looked at his watch. 8:05. That gave him more than enough time to make it to dinner at 8:30. Was a self-satisfied smirk, he left his office for the night. A moment of panic waved over him as he heard his phone start to ring, but a quick check of the caller ID showed it was his favorite person. "‘Sup?"

"Are you sure you can’t make it tonight? You still have almost half an hour to get there. And you know the traffic shouldn’t be that bad with the thing going on at the Kennedy Center."

This was his chance. He could either show his hand or he could play his cards right and surprise her. A surprise would make her overly happy and an overly happy Donna made for a well-sexed Josh. He knew the choice he had to make. "Well, I thought I had this thing in the bag until Harper decided to attach a rider."

"A rider? For what?"

"Let’s just say that I think he is trying to kill this thing dead in the water."

She sighed. As much as she hated it, she knew she was taking this chance when she hooked up with Josh Lyman. "Okay."

"Don’t pout." He was enjoying this moment way too much. He gave a wave to his chauffer as he got into his private car.

"I’m not pouting. This is my disappointed voice," she whined.

"Take Willow and enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you later tonight. Okay?"

"Have fun stopping Harper from killing things."

Their conversation ended there. Josh was satisfied he would have a full ten minutes to travel the ten blocks to the restaurant. As he entered Bijans and asked to be escorted to the Moss party of three’s table he was informed that the reservation had already been filled and he would not be allowed inside without a change. Damn plans that never go through as planned. He picked up his phone and pressed auto-dial 1.

"I don’t need a play by play, Josh. I trust you can stop the rider without my guidance."

"There is no rider," he barked. "Who’d you find in five minutes to replace me?"

"What?" Donna’s confusion quickly turned to grave understanding as she stood up to head toward the door. "You said you had the thing?"

"I lied."

"Why?"

"To make you overly happy when you saw me."

She had to stop in her steps briefly. He had on a number of occasions explained to her why he enjoyed making her ‘overly happy.’ "I asked Sam to join us."

"You dumped me for Sam?"

"You dumped me for imaginary riders."

As they made eye contact he looked to her and arched a brow. "That kinda could make me sound like an imaginary gay cowboy in the right context." Instead of appreciating his lack of good humor, she politely explained the situation and was allowed to take her boyfriend back to their table. "Why was Sam such a quick replacement?" he asked as they maneuvered through the tables.

"Mainly because he was the one dropping her off at the restaurant."

Josh’s eyes went wide and he pulled her off down a hallway that led to the kitchen. "He what?"

Donna shrugged. "So? What’s the problem with that?"

"The _problem?_ As in just one?"

"You like Sam. You like Willow." Donna looked absently at the wall behind Josh’s back. "In a weird way they have a lot in common."

"They have absolutely _nothing_ in common."

She looked in his eyes and was blown away at how upset he was quickly becoming. "Honestly Josh, they’re just new friends."

"Not for long!" he nearly yelled.

"Huh?"

"They have too much in common!"

Donna crossed her arms and looked sternly at the curly haired maniac. "You just—"

"I know!" He began pacing the small hallway. "They have similar personality and even mannerisms, but they come from two completely different worlds. _Completely."_

Donna shrugged. "So what?"

He stopped walking to stare at her incredulously. _"So what?"_

"I know, I know," she sighed. "But he’s been so caught up with work lately that he’s forgotten what a personal life is. Don’t you think it would be nice if he made some non-Washington friends? Some people that he can call and talk to on weekends besides us?"

"Sure. Just not her."

"Josh—"

"Not any of our…other friends." He ran his hands shakily through his hair once again. "There is so much he doesn’t know."

"There’s so much he wouldn’t believe."

"Demons, apocalypses, magic, vampires—"

"A sub-category of demons," Donna pointed out.

Josh ignored her comment and continued on. "Seriously? I think I remember hearing that Willow tried to take over the world one time."

"I think correctly, she was trying to end it."

"Donna!"

She walked over and placed her hands on his shoulders. "It’s fine. Just friends. Just a dinner. I’m sure it won’t become any more of a thing."

Josh pointed out toward the dining room. "I’m trying to prepare that man for the presidency!" he hissed.

"I know."

"Do you know how hard it is to prep a man for a position he doesn’t even know he’s going to run for?"

"Harder when you start introducing him to shifty women."

"Donna!"

She leaned over and kissed him squarely on the lips. Though they often refrained from any displays of their relationship in public, it was the only way she could think to shut him up. As he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, she gained the intended effect. "It’s going to be fine," she murmured into his lips as they came up for air.

"Hey!" A waiter snapped as they ventured from the stock room. "Get a room and get out of here!"

"That better be a promise," Josh muttered as they went to find their table.

*~*~*

"Ten fingers, ten toes, and a head." Dr. Elliot Reed turned to Cordelia, who frowned apologetically. "I’m not exactly sure what your husband was—"

"Oh, he’s not."

"Not what?"

"My husband." Cordelia frowned, rubbing her belly self-consciously. "I mean, we’ve been together forever, but he’s not my husband."

Dr. Reed blinked. "So you couldn’t rope him into marrying you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you’re having his baby. What else—"

Cordelia’s brows perked and she crossed her arms. "I fail to see how any of this is your business."

"Oh, it’s not," Dr. Reed readily agreed, though not in a tone indicative of apology. "I’m just insanely curious. And a little jealous. See, my fiancé and I recently split, and everyone I know has had a baby and I’ve been wondering if I wanted to marry him all along so I could have children." She looked off wistfully for a minute before remembering herself. "No, I think it’s really great that you’re doing it the unconventional way. Without the ring." She pointed to her own vacant ring finger, on which a small tanline of an engagement ring could be seen. "That way, when the relationship crumbles you can just take the baby and run."

"Did you not hear the part where we’ve been together forever?"

"Yeah, well…" Dr. Reed winked and jutted out her elbow. "All the unwed moms say that."

Cordelia smiled through her teeth. "Yeah, well, it’s true. And if you don’t get out of my face, I’m going to go hormonally crazy on your ass."

"I’d listen to her," came a voice from the right. Zack Wright shadowed the doorway. "She’s bitchy enough without the baby."

The merriment on Dr. Reed’s face dissolved slowly. "I think I’ll just…" She glanced to her pager quickly and said, "That’s a code," before bolting out the door.

Wright and Cordelia exchanged a glance.

Then, before either could say a word, an unfamiliar brunette poked her head into the room. "Perry are you…oh. You’re not Perry. Just another couple unaware of how terribly you’ve ruined your lives." The woman folded her hands over her stomach and quirked her head to the side. "Congrats on the girl!" She was gone before either could react.

This was great news, except for the part where Zack and Cordelia had decided months ago that they wanted to be surprised.

"I hate this place," Cordelia whined.

"Me too," Wright agreed.

*~*~*

Spike and Zack’s mischievous foray ended shortly after the freakishly tall janitor informed them not to eat the egg salad and then aimed a malicious glare at the easily-bruisable doctor Spike had briefly abducted. Since then, they’d returned to the waiting room, trading a few words now and again but more-over waiting for word on Cordelia.

Spike sat in the corner, his arm draped around Buffy, whose head rested on his shoulder. She was fighting a losing battle between sleep and consciousness, every now and again squeezing his knee to stir herself awake.

"Mmm," she murmured sleepily. "We’re gonna have to deal with this when we get home, aren’t we?"

"The cheerleader’s mistaking indigestion for contractions?"

"No, the stuff that happened at Caritas."

Spike sighed and pressed his lips to her brow. "Prob’ly, though sod all if I know where to begin."

"Lorne said we should watch Zack." Buffy cast a weary glance to the vamp in question, who, though he was on the other side of the room with his wife, could undoubtedly hear every word. "Or that he should watch himself. Or something."

Spike shrugged. "Don’ see why it’d be more him than the rest of us."

"Because Lorne said so." Buffy shifted, lowering her voice. "I know things for us are crazy right now, but we know where we stand…with each other. With…everyone. Zack just found out he has a brother, his dad’s a psychotic madman, and that the past two apocalypses we’ve dealt with were elaborate ploys on part of his dad to butcher Kelly."

He frowned. "An’ Zangy din’t just have his world turned upside down?"

"Zack…Wright knew his dad was a jackass. He was prepared for it. Zack…our Zack…our other Zack…was an adulterating, neglectful bastard at worst. Not someone who would procreate just to have a sacrifice handy." She squeezed his knee. "We knew we had each other…the…the other thing…where I thought you…"

Spike shivered and kissed her brow again. "‘S all right, kitten."

"No, it’s not."

"There’s no use dwellin’ on the past, especially when the past in question never happened. They din’t win, all right?" He gestured to the window. "Those lawyer gits din’t win. They din’t separate us."

"Yeah." Buffy trembled brushed a soft kiss across hiss across his neck. "And of everyone here, who’s life do you think has changed the most? I have you, you have me, Zack and Cordy’s lives haven’t changed except for this new and exciting ‘let’s keep Cordy alive’ thing…Zack…" She cast Morris a long glance. He was trying hard not to look at them. "It’s different for him."

It was obvious Spike didn’t necessarily agree; he was trying, but the look on his face was anything but supportive. His eyes were clouded with concern beyond the problems lying at Zack Morris’s feet. Perhaps he thought for everything they’d been through in the last few years, Zack should possess the ability to magically patch himself together so they could focus on the greater crisis. And admittedly, though Wright and Morris had done their share of mutual bickering, it was Morris who had assumed the part of a hormonal teen.

"The bloke’s my best mate," Spike agreed after a long minute. Then he paused. "Well, one of ‘em. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for him…"

Buffy’s brows perked. "But?"

Spike cast a cautionary glance to Zack, who looked away quickly. "‘S not the right place for this," he observed softly.

As if on cue, the tall, older doctor who had verbally lashed Dorian at the start of the visit stormed into the room.

"Preggo’s out. Baby’s still in the oven, and no, this trip wasn’t an entire waste of time." He paused for effect. "Hopefully now, the mother-to-be can tell the difference between gas and, you know, having a baby."

Kelly, who was still hacked at Nikki, glared daggers at him. "Don’t make me circumcise you," she hissed.

"Trust me, wouldn’t take."

And then, just like that, he turned on his heel and marched out.

Fred fidgeted. "What now?"

"I suggest we move back to the Hyperion," Wesley suggested, slipping his hand into hers. "I believe there’s much to discuss."

That was definitely the understatement of the year. Though at least now, gathered in the lobby of a familiar setting, they would have some answers off which to base their conclusions.

*~*~*

Josh plastered on his patented ‘I’m in politics’ phony smile as he pretended to survey the wine list. He knew he’d have to make nice, at least, with Sam and Willow if he wanted to keep Donna that special kind of happy. "So what did you two do all day?"

It was sickening the way Willow’s eyes lit up. There was no part of her that didn’t scream _smitten_. "Sam showed me around town," she said. "It was outstanding. And—"

"I’m going to California tomorrow."

Josh froze. Donna did, too.

"You’re what?" Josh demanded.

Sam smiled. "I’m flying out with Willow to California, where I will make a brief stop in my district before treating her to dinner. It’s close enough to registering for the next election to not look like a leisure trip."

"And what is it?" Donna asked.

"A leisure trip."

"You can’t," Josh blurted, panicked.

"Can’t what?"

"Fly to California."

Sam frowned. "Why not?"

"Because…" He looked to Donna for help, but she had none to offer. She kept her gaze dutifully pointed downward. "There’s the thing."

"What thing?"

"The vote…on 197."

Sam perked a brow. "Josh, you realize 197 is still in committee and won’t be on the floor for another month, if we’re lucky."

"Yeah."

"But I should stay in case there’s a vote."

"You just can’t go to California."

"I think physics proves I can."

"I think what Josh is trying to say is, he doesn’t want you to go to California," Willow observed, sending Josh a smirk. The look in her eyes told him plainly that she knew why.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I saw through that clever rouse."

"It’s just a very…busy time," Josh argued lamely.

"It’s always a busy time." Sam quirked his head, an incredulous smile on his face. "Josh…do you have a problem with me courting Willow?"

Josh’s jaw about hit the table, his eyes bulging comically. "You’re…courting Willow?"

"Yes, I am."

"When did this happen?"

"Around three-thirty," Willow answered with a brilliant grin. "He likes me a lot. I’m very likable."

"Do you have a problem with Willow?" Sam demanded, huffing chivalrously.

Josh blinked. "You’re already getting like this? God, it’s worse than I thought." He paused, holding up a hand. "Look, I obviously have no problem with Willow seeing as I’m, y’know, here on her last in DC when I could be doing something of mild importance."

"There goes Happy Donna," Donna grumbled.

"I’m just saying, you guys spent one day together and now you’re planning cross-country trips?"

Sam blinked. "I’m going to see my district."

Willow shrugged. "I’m going to LA."

"If we happen to squeeze in dinner between my seeing my district and then, well, that’s a different thing. We’re not going to scope out condominiums."

"Yet," Josh growled.

"Josh, drop it."

"No, I’m not gonna drop it," he yelped, whirling to Donna. "You said this wouldn’t happen!"

"I did not!"

"Well, you certainly hinted at it. I can’t have Sam running off with—"

The next thing he knew, he’d been tugged to his feet by a very irate redhead. And without a word, she dragged him out of the main dining area and into the front foyer.

"All right. Let’s hear it."

Josh blinked at her stupidly, a little dazed at how quickly she’d managed to get him away from the table. "Hear what?"

"You obviously have a problem with Sam court—errr, dating me." Willow blinked and made a little ‘come on’ signal with her fingers. "You have two minutes to make your case, and I have two minutes to decide if you have a valid point or are just full of crap."

No one could call Willow predictable. It took a full ten seconds of her proffered two minutes to digest and interrupt what she’d said. Another five to find words.

To his credit, Josh and words had a love-hate relationship. He was never short for words; finesse was another issue. "Well, for starters," he huffed, "you’re a witch."

Willow nodded, clearly unimpressed. "Okay."

The way she failed to be swayed by this immutable fact had him absolutely floored. "This is a man of immeasurable importance and infinite promise," Josh hissed. "He’s not the boy next door, he’s a US Congressman and one day the President of the United States. If he dates you, it’s national news. You understand?"

She shrugged. "And yet, see how little I care."

"Willow—"

"What exactly makes me so undatable, huh? I’m a legal adult, I was born here, I have no criminal record, I—"

"You teach kids magic tricks!"

"I teach kids how to live in their world."

"News flash, Red, it’s your world, too."

She blinked dumbly. "Red?"

He shrugged. "I’m trying it out."

"Okay."

"The point is, you can’t go around with one foot in this world and one foot in yours, especially not with people like Sam Seaborn. People with, oh, I dunno, careers to think about!"

"May I remind you it’s dinner, not a marriage proposal."

Josh gestured emphatically. "It’s gonna be!"

"It’s gonna be what?"

"A proposal."

Willow stared at him blankly. "Okay, does Sam move this fast with all his dates, or is it just me?"

Josh cast a furious hand through his curly hair. "Not this weekend, but eventually. You two have way too much in common to not fall in love and that’s a PR disaster waiting to happen. You can’t let him know about your world. You can’t have dinner, and he definitely can’t go with you to California."

The confidence in the redhead’s gaze began to waver. "What if I don’t tell him?"

"Don’t tell him?"

"You know, about me."

Josh snorted. "There’s no way you’re not telling him."

"Why not?"

"It’ll come up."

"How will it possibly come up?"

"Oh, I dunno. Say when he asks if he can call."

"He knows I teach in England."

Josh nodded slowly. "Yeah, and he also knows there are phones in England. What he doesn’t know is phones don’t work where you work, do they? You can’t exactly pick up your phone messages between classes."

Willow shifted. "I can find a way."

"He’ll find out. You’ll tell him."

"I will not tell him."

"It’ll slip."

"Josh, I’m like ten times smarter than you. What makes you think I’ll let it slip?"

He stared at her. "Uhhh, let’s think, because you’re a blabbermouth?"

"Hey!"

His hands came up. "You asked, lady."

A stormy look washed across her face and she fell silent for a few contemplative seconds. It was almost frightening the way the light bulb behind her eyes illuminated—even more so, the devilish flicker lurking behind her otherwise serene smile.

"I think I know how to come to an agreement," she announced.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Here’s the thing: I’m an uber-powerful megawitch, and you’re not."

Josh swallowed. Hard. "So?"

"So I think Sam’s a big boy who learned how to tie his own shoes a long, long time ago, and these are the kind of decisions adults make for themselves. Not the kind they have made for them." Willow shrugged innocently. "You wanna take away Sam’s freewill, I might just have to take away yours."

Josh gaped at her.

Then pointed.

"See!" he practically shrieked—only didn’t, rather hissed loudly. "That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re made completely of evil."

"I am not!"

"You tried to end the world."

"Only once!"

"You just threatened me."

"Because you’re being a jackass."

"I’m trying to protect him."

"And I’m saying, he doesn’t need it. He’s going to California because he wants to. No one is making him do anything. Nothing bad will happen. He won’t learn about me or Hogwarts. He won’t learn about slayers and apocalypses. It will not—I repeat—it will not be the end of the world." Willow nodded quickly as though to reassure herself. "And that was more than two minutes. I’m going back to the table now."

Five minutes later, after making up the lamest of all lame stories to excuse Josh’s prior behavior and their abrupt departure from the table, dinner was interrupted again.

This time by a spotted owl with a letter in his beak. A letter addressed to Willow. A letter from Howlstring School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place North American non-Muggles were sent to study. A letter from Headmaster August Knobbles to be a guest lecturer while she was on this side of the Atlantic.

As Sam gawked, Josh took the time to note, "Hey, you know, for the record, this?" He gestured to the owl as Willow glared at him. "This is exactly what I was talking about out there."

*~*~*

It was dark by the time that Cordelia was discharged from the hospital. Kelly had the forethought to know once everyone had relaxed they would begin to remember basics such as hunger and sleep. With a quick call to the nearest pizza parlor she had a dozen pies on its way to the Hyperion.

With slices of cheesy goodness in their system, the initial stress of the day began to subside and exhaustion took over for duty right on schedule. Most people were lounging around in the lobby, but a few were beginning to venture off to bed or out for the night.

"Any calls for patrol?" Gunn asked as he finished off another slice of pepperoni.

"I say he who asks is he who patrols," Buffy said with a yawn. "I’m ready to head upstairs." She gave a glance to her husband. "Care to join me?"

"Didn’t have to ask," he purred. They were up the stairs and out of sight in a flash.

"Zack?" Gunn looked to Wright.

He shook his head. "I promised Cordy I would stay close to home tonight. She already went upstairs, but I know she’s gonna keep close tabs."

"Zack…Kelly?"

Kelly gave a sympathetic smile. "I need to tuck the kids in. William gets extra clingy when he’s anywhere away from home."

"I’ll go," Morris volunteered. He liked the idea of venting some of the days frustration on demon targets.

Rosie walked over and took his hand. "You can’t. You promised Will you would tuck him in tonight."

"Yeah, but Daddy needs—"

Rosie was too keen for excuses. "You promised." Her stern voice left no room for exceptions.

Zack sighed. He was a jerk. And recently a hormonal teenager. But he never hurt his children-emotionally or physically. I guess I have Derek to thank. I should mention that when I rip his throat out. "Okay. I’ll be there whenever Mom says its time."

Gunn was beginning to regret that he was the first one to speak. "Wes?"

The brunet Brit shook his head. "Fred and I plan to discuss today’s events and see if we can develop a strategy.”

"Well, I guess I should have seen that one coming." Gunn would know better next time.

*~*~*

This was the moment Josh had been dreading. But as they sat there in the crowded restaurant, he had only one option.

Lie his ass off.

"What is that?" Sam stammered as he pointed to the owl now sitting in the middle of the table. The bird, on cue, snatched a piece of bread off of Donna’s plate.

"Look’s like Tippi Hedrin’s landed in here," Donna murmured in shock.

"I…uhhh…" Willow’s mind drew a blank.

"This is hilarious!" Josh said tossing the owl the rest of his bread slice and giving the bird an affectionate pet. His brief time trapped at Hogwarts had taught him a couple things. "Wow, Willow! Your class is going to love this!" Stealthily he took the letter addressed to Ms. Rosenberg and slipped it to her without Sam ever being allowed to see the label.

"Yeah." Her voice obviously conveyed her confusion.

Josh looked over to Sam. "You see, Willow was telling us that her class had requested a class pet." He gave a sharp glance to Donna for compliance. "We all know that Willow has a heart for the unconventional, so she decided to pick up a spotted owl."

"An…owl." Sam was bewildered. "Aren’t they…it’s trained?"

Willow nodded enthusiastically. "Totally. I thought that it would be a great addition to the classroom when we’re learning about…owls."

Sam’s face lit up. "You are wonderful." The adorning look in his eyes as he gazed upon her face was even enough for Josh to feel momentarily sappy. "You must be a remarkable teacher. You went out of your way to buy an expensive trained animal simply for the stimulation of your students."

Willow blushed. "Yeah."

Sam was no longer afraid of the feathered creature which interrupted their meal. "Aww…he’s cute!" he stuck out his arm and the bird immediately landed on his forearm. "Have you named him yet?"

The bird, a girl, was tired of the gender confusion and decided to let Sam know. By leaving an unspoken message of her unhappiness on his shirt. "Oh my God," Sam groaned. "He just crapped on me."

Willow groaned. This was quickly going from the best dinner to the worst night ever. "Here," she coaxed the bird into her arms. "You better go wash that off."

As Sam got up from the table and went to the restroom, Willow paid the owl so it would fly away. Afterwards, she turned her attention to Josh. "Thank you for that. You saved my—"

Josh shook his head. "Just…remember what I said. I like you, but Sam’s got a big future ahead of him."

The table sat in silence for a few moments. Donna examined the table, before looking at her boyfriend. "How did you come up with that wild story?"

They now entered Josh’s favorite part of every meal: his time to brag about himself. "Ladies, I’m a political professional. This is the stuff I live for."

As Sam made his way back to the table, his three friends prayed for a very uneventful evening.

*~*~*

Wright saw the light of the burning cigarette in through the darkness as he stepped into the darkened courtyard. He knew immediately the owner of the flame. His nerves silently screamed for him to go back inside; to return to the quiet comfort of the woman he loved. But as his feet carried him closer to the light, he knew he wasn’t yet ready for comfort. He had something left to do.

"Sorry, but office hours are Monday through Friday, eighth to five. Zack Morris is no longer taking calls today. He’ll get back to you whenever he decides to give a fuck."

Wright stopped and glared. "Cute."

"Look, can I just have some time alone?" He took another long drag of his Marlboro and looked up at the cloudy sky.

"Are you always such a hormonal prick?"

"Honest to God…no. I’m just feeling kinda…" He sighed and shook his head. "What do you want?"

Wright didn’t know exactly. Answers. Closure. "What’s your problem?"

"Just one?"

"With me. With…"

Morris didn’t know how to respond. He was jealous, but he wasn’t. He knew that it was irrational to believe that Spike had purposely used him as a cheap replacement once Wright was no longer in the picture. He also had to deal with the façade his entire relationship with his father had been. His emotions were completely out of control and he was struggling for dear life to hang on. _Why hadn’t Lorne explained more to me?_ "You’re annoying as hell, that’s for sure."

"Look you mother—"

The sting of Wright’s insult was cut short by Morris’ ringing cell. He look down and couldn’t have been more surprised. "Son. Of. A. Bitch."

"What? I don’t even know your goddamn mother!"

His voice was low and clear. "Derek." He flashed his phone to show a faceplate displaying ‘Incoming Call From: Dad.’

"Answer it," Wright demanded.

"Why?"

"Answer it!"

Morris rolled his eyes but complied. "Hello?"

"Hey there, Son! I just got in from Seattle!"

"Oh, hey." He couldn’t fake his father’s enthusiasm. He couldn’t help but wondering what scheme is father was currently implementing in order to try and kill Cordelia. He was getting nauseous at the thought.

"Are you still in L.A.?"

"Yeah…for a few days…"

"Great! Hey, why don’t you come on down to the office here in the next day or two. I really want to catch up. It’s been forever."

"I don’t know." Anger was swelling up inside so strongly he was beginning to shake. "I’m pretty busy."

"Well, how about you bring William and we can have a father-son day. Come down tomorrow and we can grab lunch and I can give you a tour. You know we expanded here a couple years ago."

"I…uhhh…" The words ‘Fuck you, you murderous bastard’ were right on the tip of his tongue.

"Bring William," Derek urged. "Let him get a taste of what’s he’s going to inherit. Show him his share of Morris Enterprises. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to show off my grandchildren."

Zack was speechless. "I…I have to talk to Kelly."

"Yeah, yeah," Derek said lightly. "Tomorrow. Meet me around 11:30. It’ll be great!"

Zack merely grunted and hung up. As soon as the call ended he did the first thing that came to mind: growl and launch the phone across the courtyard.

"You shouldn’t have done that."

"You fucking told me to!"

"I meant throw your phone, you asshole! What if he calls back?"

"He’ll try Kelly’s when he doesn’t get a response!"

"He wants to meet."

"Tomorrow. Lunch with me and Will." His voice dripped with disgust. "A father-son afternoon."

"Do it."

Morris looked at him in complete disbelief. "No fucking way!"

"Do it. I want to come."

"And you what exactly?"

"Be a part of the father-son day," he said sarcastically.

"Zack," Morris was ready to end this conversation.

"So I can cut his fucking throat!"

"Yeah, ‘cuz a lot of good—"

_"He fucking killed my wife!"_

_"And he fucking tried to kill mine, twice!"_

"Well," Wright snapped. "Almost doesn’t really count right now."

"What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I want you to get away from me, you miserable prick!"

"I want you to never have existed, you worthless bastard!" Morris snapped without thought.

Years later, neither one would be able to say who exactly threw the first punch. Both men had reached the end of their patience, with one another as well as the situation they had been placed. Fate had been far from kind from both men and today had been the icing on the cupcake of crap.

As brother turned against brother both began to bleed, it was quickly realized that they were in for a fair fight. This surprised Morris most of all; with his superhuman strength he had long discounted any ability that Wright might possess. And though Wright could admit that Morris had more developed skills than most of the demons he had fought, he didn’t feel in the least outmatched.

The minutes went on and neither man seemed prepared to surrender. There was more emotion in every blow than a feud between two near-strangers—both Zacks were desperate to find solace for the years of pain they had experienced at the hands of the other ones father.

Irony would not be outdone. As Morris sent Wright crashing into the wall, the elder brother would successfully send his foe’s skull crashing against a chair. Both would be made completely incapacitated and drained of strength at the same moment.

No longer was the night air filled with growls and grunts, only the sound of gasps for breath.

As the adrenaline became to subside, both men were confronted with the tremendous pain they had been inflicted with. "Oh, fuck," Morris gasped as he struggled to stand. His attempt was unsuccessful as he lay back down upon the courtyard cement.

Wright rested his head against the Hyperion wall. Blood filled his mouth and he felt that he may have possibly lost a tooth. "Yeah."

"Is anything broken?"

Wright stopped to check. He was covered in blood, both his own and Morris’. He knew that he needed stitches in more than one location. "Just…maybe my shoulder." He took another breath. "You?"

"I think my skull is cracked, but I’m…here."

The courtyard was silent for several more minutes. Wright was the first to speak this time. "I’m really not sure I can get up."

Morris gave a low chuckle. "Me neither."

Silence.

"He couldn’t even come up with an original name."

Wright groaned. "Lorne explained. Spike just chose that as a subconscious—"

"Not Spike," Morris snapped, but with far less bite than before. "Da…Derek." Derek Morris would never be ‘Dad’ again. To Zack, he would really never be a father. Merely a sperm donor who he had the unfortunate happenstance of meeting.

Wright was quiet. "I don’t know."

"Did your mom ever say anything about it?"

"Just that he picked it out." Wright didn’t want to ask questions, but his inner child screamed for answers. "Do…do you know anything? Was it a family name or something?"

"Not at all. He used…" He nearly choked on thoughts of bittersweet memories of a past of illusions. "He used to tell me that he hated family names. Zackary made me unique. My great-grandfather had been named Derek."

Wright couldn’t help himself. "Cell phones, internships, nice houses in L.A. in the ‘burbs. Sounds like life was pretty good."

"He was never around." When he heard the condescending snicker he elaborated. "I mean I had my mom…a really great mom. But he wasn’t there. Every time he would make some elaborate promise of the trip we would take or the project he would help me on, but drop the ball at the eleventh hour. Yeah, he could buy me shit, but when a kid just wants to play a catch a cell phone isn’t very impressive."

"Yeah."

"I used to fear that I would become him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I’ve tried so damn hard to be there for Rosie and William. Do all of that stuff I always wanted him to do with me…God, why am I acting like such a fucking hormonal teenage girl?" He drifted off to silence as he waited for his brother’s reaction.

"Rosie?"

"What about her?"

"How did we pick the same fucking name for our daughters?"

"Mine’s Rose."

"Rosalie."

"Too close for comfort."

A chuckle of agreement. "Yeah."

A pause. "Zack?"

Wright held his breath. "Yeah."

"Can you help me up?"

And with that they were no longer enemies, no longer mere rivals trying to outshine one another for the world’s attention—they were brothers.


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy’s fingers gently skimmed the back of Spike’s hand where it rested against her bare stomach. They’d jumped into each other’s arms, clothes ripping, the second the door closed, determined, needing desperately to find solace in the midst of madness. She had no idea how much time had passed since they collapsed in post-coital exhaustion, but the calm simply lying in his arms provided was irreplaceable. She didn’t know what she’d done before this, and shuddered to think of how easily everything could have been lost.

"I’m worried," she whispered.

Spike rumbled, pressing his lips to her shoulder. "Think the lot of us are."

"No…not like this…" Buffy sighed and twisted, turning so that they were face-to-face. "It’s a slayer thing, I think. I just feel something horrible is coming."

"Cordy?"

"I dunno."

Spike sighed and gently kissed her lips. "‘S been a tryin’ few days, luv," he observed. "An’ the Jolly Green Giant’s prediction doesn’ inspire hugs an’ puppies."

"Zack and Zack are going to kill each other."

"Well, ‘m sure one of them deserves it."

Buffy made a face and, lacking any other defense, nipped at his bottom lip. "It’s hard on them. Imagine discovering your dad had a baby with some other woman for the sole purpose of killing him in a ritual. And then…God, Zack finding out about Amber like that. And Zack about Kelly and Rosie…" She shivered. "And…them having the same name."

"I’m thinking about renaming Zangy Wilbert. Think that’ll work?"

"Which Zangy?"

"Whoever responds to it first."

She grinned. "You’re going to have to come up with a new nickname for one or both of them."

Spike rolled his eyes, his head crashing against the pillow. "Bloody hell, that’ll be a trip. They both answer to the same name right now as it is."

"Well, maybe Zack will stop feeling like a stand-in for Zack if you give him his own nickname."

"Which bloke you talking about, pet?"

"Our Zack." She frowned. That analogy didn’t really work, either. While Zack Morris was the one, in her mind, to qualify as their Zack simply for the fact that he’d spent the last ten years of his life with them, Zack Wright was just as much theirs as his younger brother. "The hormonal teen Zack."

"You think it bothers him more than Zangy?"

"Have you honestly not been watching?"

"I’m watchin’, I just don’t care very much." Spike sighed again and rolled onto his back, tugging her with him so that she sprawled across his rather lickable chest. "I have noticed that he’s more wrapped up in his own bollocks than carin’ about what happens to the lot of us. I can’t just take care of the wanker every time he has a bloody crisis. You were hurtin’; you’re my priority. You’re always my priority. He can’t expect me to pick up the pieces or pat his back or tell him he’s my favorite."

"And if you told him he was doing that, he’d be indignant."

"Doesn’ make it less the truth." Spike opened up one eye and peered at her. "I’m not blind, kitten. A lot of his problem concerns his wanker of a pop. What am I supposed to do?" He shook his head. "There’s not a lot you can tell a bloke once he’s determined to think one thing above the other. Right now, he wants to make out like I planned this."

"He—"

"Not consciously, I’ll grant you, but…" He trailed off, his eyes wandering. "We weren’t the same t’night. At the hospital."

"When you two wandered off and caused trouble?"

"Right."

"The same trouble to which I am allegedly completely oblivious?"

Spike nodded. "That’s the stuff, yeah. He was different. It was like we were readin’ lines out of a script, but neither one of us believed in the role anymore. An’ I know that’s because of what’s happened…an’ Zangy’s irrational fear that he’s not my chum anymore. That he’s not…"

"Your best friend?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Sure. Make me sound like a poof, why don’ you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, sweetie, if there was any doubt as to your manliness, I think we’ve already disproved it several times tonight alone. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk with dignity for a week."

He grinned the grin of a well-stroked man. "Thanks ever so."

"No, thank you. I needed that." She smirked and shifted upward to kiss him. "I think we’re all acting like the ceiling’s falling down over just our heads. Maybe Zack…okay, well, very much Zack more than the rest of us…but we’re caught up in our own little thing, too. Our memories—"

"Yeah, kitten, I know. But I’m not expectin’ to be pampered by anyone who’s not in this bed."

"Oh, so you want pampering now?"

His grin widened. "Wouldn’t hurt. But the point is, he makes me feel like I oughta tell him somethin’ to spare his bruised ego, an’ there’s nothing to say. If I even tried, he’d be brassed that I thought I needed to say somethin’ in the firs’ place. Say he doesn’ need a babysitter or a pat on the back or what all. He keeps lookin’ to me for answers that I don’ have…an’ even if I did…"

"He’d say he didn’t need help."

"Yeah."

Buffy’s mouth formed a line. She sighed, resting her cheek against Spike’s chest. "You know what we should do in the future?"

"Be more particular over who we sire?"

"Just a suggestion."

It was with that cheeky comment that the quiet solitude of the evening dissolved. The downstairs was thundering.

*~*~*

Sam suggested as they were leaving the restaurant that Willow check out early from her hotel and sleep in his bed—a suggestion which had Josh all but going into furious orbit until Sam clarified that he’d take the couch. It made the most sense, he reasoned, since they were going to catch the same flight in the morning. It’d also go a long way to keeping a few dollars in Willow’s pocket.

Admittedly, Willow wasn’t too crazy about the idea of going home with a stranger, but she was convinced after debating a hearty three seconds that it was a good move. She and Sam had obviously hit it off, and there was no earthly reason for her not to stay at his place as long as it remained platonic. However, on the same note, she easily saw the relationship descending into lots and lots of really good sex very quickly as Sam had, right before they entered the restaurant to begin with, kissed her like she’d never been kissed. It hadn’t been planned, and he’d been rather befuddled and even apologetic afterward, but it had been one of the most magical—pardon the pun—kisses of her life. And she’d had some magical ones.

Furthermore, Donna and Josh knew him and said nothing but good things…the latter, at least, when he wasn’t trying to scare Willow from dating him.

Lastly, it really did make sense. There was nothing keeping her at her hotel, and if she opted not to go home with Sam, she’d be in for a boring night of channel surfing and wishing she’d gone home with Sam.

The only duty she had to fulfill was returning the letter to Howlstring, politely declining the invitation to speak. She currently didn’t plan on being on this side of the Atlantic for long, and she certainly didn’t want to cut her Sam-time short by giving a seminar on ‘The Jitterbug: Fact, Fiction, and Myth.’

She also had to collect her things from the Holiday Inn.

Willow tried very hard to keep Sam in the lobby. He refused. It was his fault, he said, that she was packing early. He promised not to look at her unmentionables while he helped, but helping was nonnegotiable.

Her spotted owl, Ophelia, was waiting in the room just as she feared.

Sam started in the doorway. "Hey. How’d your bird get here?"

"Ophelia has a very keen sense of direction," Willow said clumsily. "Uhhh. Sam. Why don’t you get the stuff in the bathroom?"

He nodded and immediately complied. Willow released a long sigh, turned to her luggage and waved her hand. "Pack," she instructed, and her things immediately began flying into her suitcase, folding themselves appropriately, and landing in an orderly fashion.

"Ophelia," she whispered, marching over to the desk. "I hope you’re up for another flight."

Ophelia’s head crooned around to get a glimpse of the bathroom into which Sam had disappeared. She hadn’t yet forgiven the gender confusion at the restaurant, and was currently debating on how best to get near him without appearing obvious. Such an offense deserved at least a bite on the finger before they were even.

Willow’s letter was hasty, but to the point.

_Professor Knobbles,_

_So humbled by your invitation. Am sorry to decline. Important business in the States, then promptly to return to Hogwarts. Perhaps next term._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Willow Rosenberg, Defense Against the Dark Arts_

"All right," she murmured, more to herself. "Ophelia…"

The bird made a noise of discontent. Sam had not yet emerged from the bathroom.

"Take this to Professor Knobbles." She held the note out and indicated the open window, through which the owl disappeared in a blink.

When Willow turned around again, her suitcase was neatly packed and the room looked untouched. It was nothing novel, though the look on Sam’s face when he emerged from the bathroom made it seem fresh and exciting.

"Wow," he said, soaking in the room. "I didn’t hear you move at all."

"I’m a professional traveler," Willow said with a grin.

That was, until, he held up a pair of white with purple polka-dotted underwear.

"Everything else is in your bag," he said, flushed. "I found this on the floor."

"Oh God."

"Is it yours?"

"Is it mine? Who else would it belong to?"

"The hotel, for all know, could employ a rather liberated staff." He frowned, examining the panties closer. "Though your name is stitched in the back—"

Willow eeped and all but bolted across the room, snatching the incriminating evidence away. "It’s my lucky pair," she practically shouted, tossing the panties toward her suitcase, which opened and gobbled them up like a tasty treat. Thankfully, Sam was too occupied with her red-as-rubies face to notice. "I…I…I…I’m not the sort of person who normally, you know, with the name-in-underwear, but I always say to myself…Self, I say, if these get lost, people will definitely know who they belong to."

Though obviously befuddled and embarrassed by his discovery, Sam’s own blush had waned into an _oh-my-God-she’s-the-cutest-thing-ever_ gaze of adoration. "Where would you lose your panties?"

"You know…" Willow muttered, her heart hammering. "At the market."

"The market?"

"Yeah."

"You often take your pants off in the market?"

This had to be the dumbest conversation in the history of all mankind. "Things happen."

"Things happen?"

"Things often do, yes."

"At the market."

 _Where the hell did the market come from? I should really learn to not use words_. "That’s right," she eeped. "Sam, I realize I am the lamest of all lame people, but if we could just forget this ever happened, pick up the shattered pieces of my dignity, and move onto the next thing, I’d be eternally grateful."

"Would it make you feel better if you saw my underwear?"

"Yes. No! I mean…don’t you think we should be leaving?"

"What happened to your bird?"

"What bird?"

"Ophelia."

"Oh. Right. Ummm. She’s out…hunting for…field mice." Willow turned and walked quickly to her suitcase. "Shall we go?"

"Field mice?"

"That’s right."

"In DC?"

"Well, I’m not saying she expects a great turnout, but she’s willing to give it a go."

Sam arched a brow, though his eyes were dancing and his mouth refused to flatten into a straight, solemn line. "There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there."

Willow inhaled, counted to three, and nodded. "Many, many things. Let’s go."

And to her great surprise, Sam didn’t argue.

*~*~*

"Okay," Buffy observed, noting the two black and blue Zacks who were taking turns with the ice pack. "Either we have a very violent poltergeist, or…"

"Don’t be cute," Wright said. "Just help me pop my shoulder back in."

"And maybe hold up fingers so I can give a comically exaggerated number before passing out," Morris offered with a weak smile.

Buffy rounded Wright, tossing Spike a glance as he tumbled down the stairs, wearing nothing but his jeans. "Looks like the boys got into a fight," she called, taking a hold of Wright’s good shoulder. "You ready?"

"Just glad it’s not broken," he muttered. Then groaned loudly when she popped his shoulder back into place.

"An’ you boys were gettin’ along so well," Spike drawled, rounding the front counter to the fridge. "Hungry, pet?"

Buffy smirked and joined him. "Well, we did work up an appetite."

"At least someone had fun tonight," Morris muttered. A pause, then, "I got a call from Derek."

Buffy and Spike both froze, raising their blood bags to their lips. "Oh?" the former asked.

"That why you two mistook the other for punchin’ bags?"

"Oh, I’m sure there were plenty of reasons," Wright observed dryly.

"I don’t think I can see him," Zack whispered. He tossed Wright a surprisingly apologetic glance. "I know all you want to do is kill him…and believe me, I get it. I really do. But…you didn’t have to grow up with the man."

"Not really earning any sympathy here."

"You don’t know him. Okay? He can be the boogeyman to you, but to me…"

Wright stood up straight. He looked remarkable for a man who, only a minute ago, had been cradling his arm. "Fine then."

"Fine?"

He nodded. "Set up the appointment. Just don’t go."

Morris arched a brow.

"I think it’s time I met dear daddy."

"Oh no," Morris objected. "You can’t. You’ll kill him."

Wright’s eyes darkened. "Yeah. That’s kind of the perk."

"I want to be the one to kill him!"

"Too damn bad. Your wife’s not the one on the line."

Morris gestured emphatically. "She was!"

"Well, and as I stated before pummeling your ass, she didn’t die. She never died. I lost Amber, and fuck all if I lose Cordy because you have some pissing contest on who wants to kill Derek the most." Wright’s chest heaved. "I admit, I want to rip his still-beating heart out of his chest just to see him in pain, but more than anything in the world, I want to protect the woman I love. Imagine for one second that Kelly, that your children, were on the line. Would you, in any way, let me stop you from killing the guy who put them in danger?"

It was a redundant question. The answer was already there; Morris had already reached it. He nodded slowly, his temper slowly deflating. "I know. I know…and you’re right."

Buffy’s jaw hit the floor. Spike blinked in shock.

Morris ignored them. "I’ll do it," he whispered. "I’ll set it up. And then it’s on you."

Wright looked at him for a minute longer, then nodded, a long sigh rushing through him. "And then…god willing…" He paused. "It’ll all be over."

*~*~*

Willow’s mouth was occupied with Tongue of Sam, and her shirt had, at some point, completely vanished. She gathered her bearings enough to reclaim her mouth, and, between gasps for air, said, "You know…this is a big bed. Much too…big…for one person."

Sam blinked, his hair ruffled, his dress-shirt in a state made for porn, and his legwear reduced to a pair of white boxer briefs. Boxer briefs that, he’d been quick to show her, had his name in the back. "You think?"

Now, Willow wasn’t the sort of girl to hop in the bed on the first not-a-date, but as her eyes gobbled him up, there was only one viable response. "Absolutely. And that couch downstairs looked really…uncomfy."

She seized his head and dragged his mouth down to hers, and to her immense relief, the whole of his very—erm—hard body followed.

*~*~*

The next day, at the café outside the Morris building, Derek Morris sat. He sipped his coffee. He read his paper. He checked his watch.

It wasn’t unlike Zack to be late, but there was something about today. Something that had him nervous.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that Cordelia Chase was destined to die within forty-eight hours and he, at the suggestion of Lilah Morgan, had called to invite his legitimate son and grandchild out for lunch.

Or perhaps because the dollar had dropped by two points and he was worrying about the merger with Lane Enterprises.

It could have been a lot of things.

So occupied with his newspaper was he that Derek didn’t notice the approach of a man in jeans and a leather jacket. A man whose unshaven face served as the spitting image for his own son. A man sporting a crossbow.

A man who grinned wildly when he saw him.

"Hi, Dad."

*~*~*

Zack would have confided in his wife, but Kelly had feigned sleep by the time he made his way up to their room. The next morning left no opportunity since the kids were in a mood to demand constant attention. Rosie clung to Zack’s side until she decided that her new friend Rosalie was a more intriguing observation. William clung with both of his parents since he wasn’t very familiar with anyone or anything. Luckily, he had taken a penchant to Fred and Cordelia as the morning progressed.

Since his wife was now occupied with a riveting discussion concerning which was the best diaper rash cream for Cordy to use, he decided the best strategy would be to slip out and tell her all about the situation after he returned. That way no attention would be paid to him and his business.

He was looking forward to a day in which he was on the spotlight a little less than usual.

"I used Super Duper Diaper Doo," Kelly said in a voice so blasé she could have been commenting on the weather. "Destin totally broke Rosie’s bum out in a rash."

"Really?" Cordy seemed thoroughly intrigued.

Zack grinned. He loved his wife and he was already becoming overly fond of his new sister-in-law. He grabbed his jacket and sauntered off to the back door. Before he went for the doorknob, he pulled out his favorite Yankees hat and slapped it on his head and checked to make sure that Gunn’s car keys were in his front pocket. With his sunglasses and cigarettes in his jacket, he was set for his afternoon out on the town.

"Going somewhere?"

The accusation in the voice immediately set him on edge. He whirled around to face Spike. "I was heading out for a bit. You need anything?"

The platinum vampire narrowed his gaze. "And where are you going, again?"

Zack arched a brow. "Is it time for my ten a.m. scolding?" He sighed dramatically. "Well, I never told you, now did I? Okay, okay…if you must know," sarcasm was dripping in his voice. "I was heading out to make reservations for your ‘return to reality’ party."

"Zack," Spike growled in a lowly voice.

"I was just heading out for a bit," he said defensively. His tone changed to one of more concern. "Hey, how’s Buffy doing?"

"How’s Buffy?"

"Yeah," Zack paused and sighed. "Yesterday was a really big thing for you guys. I know that you’re fine enough to be an asshole, but I wasn’t sure if she was holding up with all of the new…information."

Spike knew that he was changing the subject and it only served to irritate him further. "She’s fine."

"Good," Zack said sincerely as he turned back to the door. "Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a bit."

"No you won’t."

Zack turned his head and frowned. "What? You think I’m lying? Trust me. An hour. Two tops."

"I mean you aren’t going anywhere."

Now Zack was pissed. "I don’t remember asking for your permission."

"I know you’re havin’ these hormonal delusions, but I won’t let you go bugger up this thing with Zangy."

"For you information, I have no intention of buggering anything up with Zangy." Spike responded with a snort, which only served to fuel Zack’s temper. "Look, I have better things to do than stand here and witness another round of Spike’s righteous condescension." He reached for the doorknob.

"I swear," Spike said in a low voice, nearing a growl. "If you fuck with him today, I’ll personally make sure you aren’ given the chance to do so ever again."

Zack pulled opened the door and took his first step outside. "Glad to know that trust factor didn’t go away with everything else."

"Zangy—"

"I’m not Zangy. He’s out there taking care of some unfinished business. And I think we’re done here. I have somewhere else to be."

"If you—"

"Trust me. For once." And with that he slammed the door behind him, leaving Spike and the Hyperion behind.

*~*~*

As the morning light came in through his bedroom window, the memories of the night before began to fill Sam’s memory. He had just experienced the best night of sex of his life. He and Willow were next to strangers; he knew she liked owls and taught school somewhere in England. He knew she was eccentric and funny, but definitely had secrets that she wasn’t keen on sharing.

All of the above was overshadowed by the fact that he just had the best sex of his life.

With a smile, he opened his eyes to gaze upon the girl of his dreams. She was still blissfully unconscious, which gave Sam a much-needed chance to be alone with his racing thoughts. Things were moving much faster than he ever anticipated, but the only thing that worried him was the possibility that his forwardness may drive her away. The last thing he wanted was to drive away the first person that ever seemed to get him.

Lisa had never seemed to fully embrace his unique personality. While he believed there was genuine love there at one time, there was always a feeling that she merely tolerated his more eccentric tendencies in order to embrace the more socially acceptable aspects of his character. He knew the moment he gave up his position at Gage Whitney they would never survive—his dreams were not as important to her as the prestige of his career.

Though it was way too soon to compare Willow to his former fiancée, he was doing exactly that. He just decided he might not want to tell anyone that little tidbit for a few days.

Willow sighed and rolled to face him. She looked like a peaceful angel as she dozed and he felt guilty for the dirty thoughts that filled his mind as his eyes traveled south to her exposed breasts. _I’m almost afraid to ask where she learned those moves._

He knew there was more to her story because Josh kept having the strangest reaction to their presence together. He knew that Josh was an over-protective guy—he had long taken up the stance of a surrogate big brother—but his reaction to Willow was quite bizarre. Especially since he and Donna were the ones who introduced him to her. That fact was probably the main reason why he could so easily ignore Josh’s attempts to end his new-budding romance with the beautiful redhead.

With a quick glance to his watch—he had no idea how it had remained on throughout the night—he realized there was only three hours before they should be at the airport. He figured that would give him and her enough time to shower and give him a chance to throw together his bag. He might want to drop a call into his office as well since he was very vague when he called last night to inform his staff he would be heading to California the next day for an indefinite amount of time.

As quietly as possible, Sam rolled himself out of bed. As tempting as the idea of waking Willow up for a morning round of love-making was, he figured that a nice, hot shower would be the most practical thing. As he headed to the bathroom, he took another longing glance back at the woman dozing under his sheets.

*~*~*

"Who the hell are you?"

Wright snorted. "I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m not the only son you created for the sole purpose of killing before taking a first breath."

Derek’s eyes went wide. He had hoped Wright would never find out. He had hoped that he would never come looking for him. He began to wonder if this meant that he was informed about the current plot concerning Cordelia Chase. "I…I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about."

Wright tossed the crossbow haphazardly on the table, causing the coffee mug and ornamental flower vase to crash loudly to the ground. Several patrons were looking on at the scene with morbid curiosity. "Don’t fuck with me, Derek. I’ve waited too long for this day."

"Excuse me," Derek said as he began to get up from his chair. "I’m afraid—"

"Oh no no." With a shove, the elder man was sent down into his seat. "This is ending right here and right now." Wright gave a humorless chuckle. "All these years I was only going after Darla. If I had known that you were to blame for Amber’s death I would have done it all a little differently."

"I’m sorry, but—"

"Stop. Fucking. With. Me." He reached for his crossbow once again. He knew that a small crowd had gathered around their table, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He didn’t care that it was broad daylight and what looked like an unmarked police car had just pulled up outside the café. He was going to end the years of horror right now. The dread of Cordelia suffering the same fate as Amber would never again plague his thoughts. He felt that with this deed he may be able to finally reach the point where marriage to Cordy would be a possibility.

_If I’m not in prison for more than a year or two._

"Just tell me, did she ever mean a thing to you? Did you at least think she was pleasant in a ‘this woman is too poor to ever be worth a damn’ sort of way? Or was she just the first decent fuck you could find on your way down to Mexico?" With that, he took Derek by the shirt collar.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Derek whispered, looking not at Wright but at the activity over his shoulder.

*~*~*

The phone sounded exactly like the one she had grown up with in Sunnydale. As soon as it rang, she immediately forgot she was in Sam Seaborn’s apartment. After the third ring, countless memories of similar experiences gave her the audacity to roll over and grab the receiver. Not knowing whether she was addressing the dry cleaner or the president, she croaked out, "Huh?"

"…Willow?"

With a sleepy smile she replied. "Mmm hmm." Her well-sexed body was quickly reminding her of the night before.

"Oh. My. God."

Her eyes popped open. The sound of Josh’s horrified voice awakened her to full reality. "We didn’t have sex last night!"

"You had sex last night." She could almost hear the facepalm on the other end. "I should never have let you go home with him."

More alert now, she could put up a decent banter. "And how were you going to stop me? Stand in his doorway and hope that I didn’t turn you into a field mouse?"

"Fuck!" Josh whispered. "Once he sleeps with you, he’s really gonna get attached."

Sam had opened the bathroom door to hear what the commotion was all about. Finishing off his hair, he took the towel and wrapped it around his waist as he stepped into the room.

"Look, Josh," Willow said with an eye-roll. "You have no evidence to back up your allegations. And I would let you talk to Sam but currently he’s…" Her eyes happened to look over to the towel-clad piece of heaven standing at her side of the bed. "Naked."

"Half-naked," Sam corrected with a smirk and a wink. He could hear Josh yelling as he gently took the receiver away from Willow’s limp grasp. "Hey, Josh. Thanks for calling, but I think I better get back to having sex now. Yeah, I’ll call you when I get to California." With that he hung up the phone.

"I’m so sorry," Willow blushed. "I should have never picked up the phone. During the sleepage I just assumed that I had the right to pick up any ringing objects. Lucky I didn’t answer your alarm clock." She was trying to keep her eyes off of his dewy chest, but they kept venturing there as well as lower.

"It’s fine," Sam said gently.

"Yes, it is," Willow said seductively and without thought. When she witnessed Sam’s brows arch in amused surprise, she turned to crimson. "Did I just say that out loud?"

"I sure hope so." The humor in his gaze turned more lustful the longer their eyes remained connected.

"I…guess I better go and take my shower, now," Willow remarked. Honestly, she just wanted to lie back and stay lost in his eyes forever.

Sam held out his hand. "Well, I better show you. The knobs sometimes stick."

"Oh yeah?" Her dirty mind was beginning to focus on other sticky things.

"Yeah," he murmured. "You have to know how to jiggle the thing just right."

Willow doubted that she would get clean as she took Sam’s hand, but she was going to love every minute of it.

*~*~*

Zack was still fuming as he tore down the freeway in Gunn’s car. He was glad he didn’t have to worry about ripping the clutch out as he floored it. Instead of focusing his attention on the vehicle he had just ‘borrowed,’ he turned his thoughts and frustration to the man he had just confronted.

"Ballsy sonofabitch!" he roared. "Acts like I’m some…" His mind searched for the perfect adjective and failed. He settled for more juvenile name-calling to help alleviate his bitterness. "Prick!"

Getting off the freeway and taking a familiar left, he continued to talk to himself. "And I know that I haven’t been the easiest person to deal with since we got here, but I think I’m fucking entitled to some of this." He took a deep, unneeded breath. "Yeah, I’ve been a little…but I just told my mom I’m a fucking vampire! Then I find out he’s had this soul-mate that he happened to forget existed. Oh yeah," Zack turned down the street where he was supposed to have met his father nearly half an hour ago. "Did I forget that I found out I had a half-brother and my father is murderous fucking psychopath? Sorry, Spike if I can’t drop everything to be at your fucking beck and call. Luckily, you remembered you have another lapdog. Maybe after he finishes off the man who caused all this shit we call all tune back into the Spike and Buffy Show. Maybe then we can all go back to…"

Zack stopped and shook his head. "Pretty sure this was what Lorne warned me about." He sighed as he pulled up across from the café he had arranged for Wright to meet his father. "Maybe I can head back down to Caritas and talk to him a little more. He has to have more to tell me than that vague doomsday prophesy he rambled…" His voice died off as he focused on the events happening across the street. As late as he was due to Spike’s holdup, he had assumed Wright had carted Derek off indoors, possibly to the confines of Morris Industries. As he watched Wright holding his father up by the neck, he was relatively certain the younger man had no idea that four men were rushing up behind him.

The events unfolding before his eyes seemed written for a bad T.V. drama. The men grabbed Wright and began dragging him toward the unmarked vehicle parked outside the entrance. And while it seemed that Zack Wright was a decent opponent, he was outnumbered and not at the top of his game.

As Zack rushed out of the driver’s seat and ran across four lanes of traffic, he began to regret how badly he had bruised his brother up the night before. As he approached listening distance, he began to hear his brother’s struggle for freedom. "Geroff!"

Morris ran over and blocked the agents’ progression toward their car. "I’m sorry," he said casually. "But you’re in a bit of a sticky wicket."

"Zack!" Derek nearly shrieked in surprise.

"You see, you seem to be manhandling my brother," Morris continued. "And as history has shown, I like to be the only one who does that kind of thing."

The agents, in their shock, loosened their grip. Giving Wright all the leverage he needed, he was able to break free of their hold and begin in on a fair fight. Sustaining several more bruises and a deep gash to the abdomen, he and Morris were able to incapacitate all of the would-be kidnappers in a matter or minutes.

By the time they were finished, Derek Morris was long gone from the scene, but both men know that he had witnessed them fighting together.

As soon as the adrenaline of the moment faded away, Wright looked as though he would collapse. Morris rushed over and steadied his wavering brother. "Where?"

"My side, but it’s fine," he gingerly checked to see how deep a cut the knife had produced. "It’ll heal okay. I just…I think they drugged me."

Morris saw the glossy look in Wright’s eyes and didn’t doubt the claim for a second. Carefully he wrapped his arm around him and began to escort him to Gunn’s car. "Can you walk?"

"Think so." He was stumbling as he battled for consciousness. "Hey, Zack?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he took on more of his brother’s weight.

"My crossbow."

"For the love of God," Morris grumbled as he turned back toward the table and the discarded weapon. "You brought a fucking crossbow to the café?"

Wright had to smile. "Thought it looked classier than the grenade launcher."

Grabbing the crossbow and practically carrying the elder Zack, Morris was able to get everything situated into Gunn’s car and begin the journey back to the Hyperion. The drive was quiet as Wright dealt with the sedative he had been placed under and Morris cautiously kept his eyes out for any signs of being tailed. As they pulled up at the Hyperion, he was relatively certain nobody had followed them.

Arm in arm, the Zack brothers stumbled into the foyer of the Hyperion. Unfortunately, everyone had gathered to hear Zack Wright declare that the apocalypse was over and peace had been brought to their lives once again.

"Oh my God," Cordy screamed as she rushed to her injured boyfriend.

"What happened?" Kelly demanded as she raced to Morris.

Zack tried to bring as much light to the situation as possible. "Let’s just say things didn’t go quite according to plan." While his voice had remained airy, a cold glare formed across his stormy eyes as he looked upon the platinum vampire across the room.

"What did you do?" 

The accusation shouldn’t have been surprising; hell, even Morris knew how this looked. Still, a rush of heat couldn’t keep from rushing up his spine as he drank in the righteous accusation saturated in the elder vampire’s eyes. "Nothing," he replied with surprising calm. "This is thanks to Wolfram and Hart."

"Wolfram an’ Hart?"

Zack nodded, lowering Wright to the closest settee, where he was immediately ambushed by Kelly and eventually ambushed with a waddling Cordelia. "You know. The lawyers who have been fucking up my life ever since you entered it?"

"Think your old man would’ve guaranteed the Wolfram an’ Hart fuck-up, mate, but if you’re handin’ it out, I’ll take the credit."

"What happened?" Cordelia asked breathily, her tear-filled eyes drinking in Wright’s bruised, broken face. "Oh Zack…"

"Derek has a security detail," Zack observed. "They were beating the crap out of him and dragging him toward what likely would have been a very gruesome death had I not shown up and taken care of business." He glanced to Spike, as though daring him to defy his version of events.

Spike didn’t question him, though the look on his face was stony.

"I’ve never seen him like this," Cordelia whispered, gently brushing blood-coated strands of Wright’s hair out of his face. "He’s never been…"

"They gave him something."

"Sedative," Buffy confirmed, surprising everyone. She stood on the second-floor veranda, her eyes drinking in the scene. "They gave me the same thing…a long time ago. When they…you know, grabbed me."

"How long did it take you to wake up?" Cordelia demanded, her breathing slightly erratic, tears streaming down her face. It was the hormones talking; she was typically a pillar of strength, a fortress of fortitude. She definitely wasn’t the sort of woman to fall apart without her man beside her. "I need him to wake up. I need him to wake up now."

"I’m not really sure. I was kinda chained up in the dungeon, and wouldn’t you know they didn’t have a clock on the wall?" Buffy rolled her eyes, slowly making her way downstairs. "It was enough to knock me out within a few minutes, though."

"I thought that was the point of sedatives?" Fred asked lamely.

"I’m the Slayer. It typically takes a lot more for me." Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance before she proceeded to Wright’s limp form on the settee, kneeling beside him. "It could be a completely different drug, but if I know Wolfram and Hart…"

"Wright’s strong, man," Gunn remarked. "If they wanted him out, they’d likely give him an elephant tranq."

"Or at the very least a slayer tranq," Buffy observed wryly. She glanced to Cordelia. "He’ll be fine. But…" She sighed, running a hand through her hair and rising again to her feet. "This is a whole new thing, though."

Morris inhaled sharply, tossing Spike another wary glance. The elder vampire was no longer looking at him; his eyes were fixed on the broken form of Zangy the First, unreadable. "A whole new thing?" he asked Buffy. "How you figure?"

"You went after Zack."

He inhaled sharply, defenses flaring. "Yeah, and if I hadn’t, he’d be in the Wolfram and Hart Dead Bodies Emporium."

Buffy’s hands came up. "I’m not contesting that."

"Then why—"

"She means that the lawyer gits now know you know," Spike interjected sharply, his eyes flashing. "Doesn’t matter what your intentions were, mate. If your wanker of a pap knows you an’…" He motioned to Wright, evidently unable to call him by either his nick or given name. "If he knows you know, that changes the game."

"It’s good you went, though," Buffy said when she saw anger spark in Morris’s eyes. She wasn’t blind; combined with her conversation with Spike last night, she knew that the broken tension between the misplaced brothers had resulted in thicker tension between her mate and his best friend of ten years. There was no hope of salvaging it now—there was truly every chance that their relationship was forever changed, if not irrevocably broken. And no matter how sad the thought made her, she knew better than to dwell when events of an apocalyptic sort were in the making. "We just have to be prepared for immediate action."

Whether or not Morris heard her, she had no idea. He was still staring at Spike as though daring him to ridicule him for saving his brother’s life.

"Why?" Kelly asked instead. "Why would they now…what makes—"

"Zack’s the one Derek Morris wanted. Your Zack, anyway," Buffy explained softly with wisdom she wasn’t even sure she understood. "If he knows that Zack is on our side…our side being the one determined to stop him from getting to Cordelia and therefore preventing him from getting the blood he needs, he might become unhinged."

"More so than he was before?" Fred asked. "Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see someone willing to procreate for the sole purpose of sacrificing the child as someone who was all there to begin with."

"He wanted Zack, though. He wanted at least one son for the sake of…well, ego, if nothing else," Wesley observed. "Continuing the familial line, expanding Morris industries…he wouldn’t have gone to such extremes to guarantee his success if he didn’t intend to pass on the empire, so to speak, to someone else. We know this from the way Kelly was a secondary target—the mark of a truly desperate man who saw time was against him. He didn’t want to kill her…he merely thought he had no choice."

"What fucking prince," Morris snorted.

"‘S why the lot of us need to be ready for something else," Spike observed softly, his eyes again falling on Zack Wright. "Man loses something like that…a man not entirely all there to begin with…something’s gonna hit the bloody fan, an’ fast."

Spike then looked to Buffy. "Pet, a word?"

She nodded easily and followed him into the garden, well aware of Zack Morris glaring at them with every step.


	11. Chapter 11

"I hope you’re happy."

Donna didn’t even glance up as she entered Josh’s office. "You have a meeting with Baker in the Roosevelt Room in twenty minutes over 163, and the President wants you to go to the Hill to talk with Hutchison over the budget proposal."

"They did it."

She still didn’t look up. "Who did what?"

"Sam and Willow."

"They did it?"

"Yes."

At last, she met his eyes. "Sam and Willow did what?"

Josh just stared at her and gestured emphatically. " _It_ , Donna, they did _it_."

She frowned, her eyes narrowing in a pure look of Donna-condescension. "I’m sorry, are you speaking in code?"

"Did you ever even go to elementary school?"

"I’m not talking with you when you’re like this. Baker in twenty, then the thing on the Hill."

Josh selected a random file on his desk and slammed it down again as though to make a point. "Are you even listening?"

"No."

"I’m saying they _did it."_

"Had sex."

_"Yes!"_

"Sam and Willow."

"No, Bono and Amelia Earhart. Yes, Sam and Willow."

"Well, in either case, I hardly see where it’s any of your business."

"Of course it’s my business. Did you not hear me last night? Did you not see the owl land _at our dinner table?_ The man I’m prepping to be the leader of the free world took _that_ home with him last night." Josh sighed heavily, shaking his head. "This is entirely your fault."

Donna nodded, her face annoyingly stoic. She simply didn’t seem to grasp the weight of the situation. "Yes, I’m sorry I signed Willow’s permission slip. Can we get back to work?"

"They’re gonna fall in love now."

"And doesn’t that make them horrible people?"

"I can’t protect him from this."

"You never really had a chance."

Josh glowered. "And whose fault was that? You were the one who put them together yesterday."

"Yes, Josh, I’m sorry I again failed to use my crystal ball to see into the future. In the meantime, how about you get notes together for Baker?"

His brow furrowed. "Hey…wait a sec."

"What?"

"You’re in here."

"And they say no girl can get anything past you."

"Where’s Davis?"

"Out there."

"Why are you in here?"

Donna shrugged. "I was talking with the President. He asked me to give you a message. Don’t make it a thing."

"The President asked you to give me a message?"

"Yes. I had breakfast with Helen Santos and the President dropped in."

"He does know that I’m his Chief of Staff, right?"

"He does, but there’s absolutely no evidence to suggest he cares."

"You know what you are?"

"Impervious?"

"Fired."

"Yeah, this would be one of the many reasons I don’t work for you anymore." Donna poked her tongue out and grinned. "Just remember what you want me to be."

Josh glanced up.

"Happy Donna. Don’t stress about Sam. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself."

*~*~*

She hated to see him look so troubled. There wasn’t much in the world that could make Buffy feel completely and utterly useless; the distress on Spike’s face was one of them.

"We had words before he left."

"You and Zack?"

Spike nodded, glancing toward the lobby. Though they were well out of view, the movements of everyone inside the Hyperion were felt; sensed. "I accused him of going to stop Zangy."

Buffy pursed her lips and didn’t say anything.

"I threatened him."

"You threatened Zack?"

“I’ve never threatened him. Not really. Not like that…not since…"

"Not since the last time Wolfram and Hart decided to fuck with us?"

Spike hesitated, then nodded again. "I just don’t know, kitten. I have no sodding idea where it goes from here. You were right in there…Zangy going was a bloody saving grace, but it’s gonna come at a price. An’ I’m just not sure how the lot of us are supposed to work together if we’re always at each other’s throats."

Buffy was quiet for a minute, then reached for his hand and squeezed. "We’ve made it before, haven’t we?"

"Not like this, we haven’t. Not with everything so up in air." Spike shook his head. "Buffy, the last time we got in a fix like this, I nearly tore you apart. I nearly tore Zangy apart. I went so bleeding out of my mind, an’ it wasn’t until we stopped jumpin’ to conclusions around every bend."

"You’re being too hard on yourself. We’ve all been a little jumpy, and—"

"No, I’m not." Resolution hardened Spike’s eyes. "I wasn’t wrong. The git’s been nothing but a self-centered prat since this all bloody started. He’s pitched a fit with every step. The two of them nearly tore each other up last night, an’ fuck me, but he has to know how it looked when he came in here with Zangy looking like that."

"Still, you jumped to a conclusion. Or you made one tiny step and there conclusions were. Whichever. Though really, it likely wasn’t a good idea threatening him. You know what Lorne said—"

"No, I don’t."

"Spike—"

"He din’t say anythin’. Just made a bunch of grand allusions to what’s to come." Spike ran both hands through his platinum locks, turning away quickly. "I don’ know how to do this."

Buffy worried her lower lip between her teeth and took a step forward. "Do what?"

"Keep the Order in line. I was never s’posed to be here, Buffy. I was never s’posed to be the head of the sodding clan." With a sudden break of fury, he treated a potted plant to an angry kick, unflinching when the pot broke and sent waves of soil across the pavement. "Angelus an’ Darla are out of the picture, even if they’re not, you get me? You an’ me, we started somethin’ new. I was never s’posed to be the head of any family. I don’ have the skin for it."

"Well, to be fair, neither do they."

Spike paused, then slowly turned to face her. "Hussat?"

Buffy inclined her head toward the lobby. "Zack and Kelly. They don’t know what it’s…what it means to be a vampire. Not like you do. Not even like I do. We both had history before going into this. Even if I was always a vampire with a soul, I was still born of this world. This world. The place where demons and vampires live. But they weren’t, and they’ve never really been vampires. They drink blood, yeah, and they need the gems to keep them from going kablooey, but this Order stuff is completely foreign. What you see as trying to lead the clan, Zack sees as being condescending. And you know how that feels, Spike."

Her mate’s eyes flickered yellow. "I am not Angelus to his sodding William the Bloody."

"I know, sweetie."

"The git couldn’t survive what I survived."

"Well," Buffy said carefully, her voice tempered. "I think he could, and I know you think he could, too, but let’s not go there."

He huffed.

"But the point," she continued, "is being the head of the Order automatically puts you at some sort of level of command Zack can’t grasp, and it’s not fair to ask him to understand something like this. Especially right now. Your reaction to him today was you trying to be Spike the Leader of the Order, which, while devastatingly sexy, is not what he needs right now. If we want to get everything in line in order to fight the Big Evil, we’re going to need a little less…just be a friend."

"‘m tryin’."

Her eyes narrowed. "Spike…"

"I don’ know how to switch it off, luv. The part of me that’s…"

"The leader?"

He scowled. "I hate that word."

"Well, as you said, you are the head of the Order. The Order we started together. And yeah, it’s understandable that you would…transfer some of the things you experienced by your…elders into the way you try to manage things."

"Nice way to dance around that one."

She grinned. "I try."

"Buffy…"

"I’m not saying you go in there and break the rule of guydom by apologizing. Just don’t react when he glares at you. If he has a tone when he speaks, don’t have a tone back. If he accuses you of thinking or saying something, don’t get argumentative."

Spike favored her with a long, skeptical look. "Do you really see any of that happenin’?"

She nodded cheerily. "Yup."

"How you figure?"

She paused, then smiled kittenishly and stepped forward so she was pressed against him, her hands on his chest. "Just, every time you feel yourself beginning to snap, remember this…" With unmistakable intent, she leaned in and whispered something deliciously filthy in his ear, and didn’t pull away until he purred his agreement and utilized her proximity to seize her mouth in a quick, almost desperate kiss.

It did the trick; he seemed to calm at that. Therefore, after a few more encouraging words, they turned and walked back into the lobby, hand-in-hand.

*~*~*

"I thought you needed to see your constituents."

Sam nodded and tossed a glance out the hotel room window. "Yes. There they are." He turned to her with a rakish grin. "Okay. They’ve been seen."

Willow blushed, slowly removing things from her suitcase. It was so much more time consuming when she couldn’t just wave a hand. "The plan was you meet with people, then you and I go to dinner."

"I’ve rethought the plan."

"You have?"

"Yes. That plan was flawed and outdated. This plan is much better."

"How long have you had it?"

"Had what?"

"The plan?"

Sam frowned thoughtfully. "It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time frame, but namely since you did that thing with your mouth on the plane."

"What thing?"

"You know what thing."

"I talked, Sam. I blabbered."

"Yes, and it was enormously sexy."

She wrung her hand self-consciously. "Planes make me nervous."

"Willows make me very much aware that I am a man with a healthy libido."

She giggled and glanced down; Sam had wasted no time in stripping to his boxers upon entering their room. His reluctance to put pants back on had been clue number one that they weren’t going to go anywhere, save maybe to the door to pick up room service food. "So says Little Sam." His—erm—Little Sam was peeking through the front slit of the boxers. "Hi, Little Sam," she said with a wave.

"Little Sam?"

"Well…" She blushed. "Not-so little Sam."

"Is this too fast?" he asked suddenly, panicked. "Am I moving too fast?"

"You remember last night, when I jumped you?"

"That’s not the sort of thing a man forgets," Sam replied with a grin.

"And this morning? And in the shower? And then almost in the elevator?"

"You made the suggestion on the plane, but I thought it wouldn’t be a good PR move."

Willow nodded. "And you were right. This isn’t too fast."

"Are you sure?"

"You want me to take my top off?"

Little Sam answered for him.

*~*~*

"This is a disaster."

"Yes," Lilah Moran said, watching unsympathetically as a very nervous Derek Morris paced up and down the length of her office.

"Zack knows."

"Yes."

"Zack knows about Zack."

"Yes."

Derek glanced up, pale. "What are we going to do?"

"I fail to see how it’s any concern of mine. It was your blood to acquire, Mr. Morris."

"For God’s sakes—"

Lilah held up a hand. "We use indoor voices in my office."

"You have to have a backup plan."

"Funny, I don’t remember that clause in your contract."

"This is my life."

"Yes, it is." Her tone was thoroughly indifferent. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Ms. Morgan—"

"Wolfram and Hart has a way of taking care of enemies, Mr. Morris. If you wish to add an additional clause to your contract, I am by no means going to stop you." She smiled. "We could always…pull the trigger."

"Pull the trigger?"

"For a price. We could pull the trigger."

He sighed heavily, nodding. There wasn’t a blink. Not even a moment’s thought. Not a care for what the price entailed. He was just eager to have it over. "All right. Let’s do it."

"Let’s do it?"

"Yes. Let’s pull the trigger."

Lilah stared at him for a long moment as though daring him to back out. When he didn’t, a slow, malicious smile spread across her face and she leaned back, kicking up her heels and folding her hands behind her head. "We’re in business."

*~*~*

"This is definitely the best plan?"

"We know what we’re up against, we just don’t know where to find it," Morris reassured his wife as he grabbed a crossbow he was sure belonged to his brother. "I think sending out the search teams is a good idea."

"With me and Nikki staying here in case someone comes after Cordy," Kelly confirming with a nod.

Zack’s voice grew low and quiet. "I don’t like her much."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "You haven’t seemed to like anyone much lately."

The comment gave him pause. He was waiting for the moment when she would react to his mood. "I just…"

She nodded and leaned forward to give him a reassuring kiss. "I know. This has been really difficult the past few days."

"How have you been so strong?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "I mean…everything at your parents’ went so wrong."

She shrugged. She had too many other things to worry about to let her emotions drive her insane. Between dealing with raising the children through the chaos and trying to figure out all of the complexity that was revealed at Caritas, she hadn’t really been given a chance to deal with her own family drama or the issues that were slowly devouring her husband. "I have you," she said simply.

Despite all the cracks that were continually made about Kelly and her naïve disposition, he would fight anyone who dared tell him that his wife wasn’t the strongest woman he ever met. "God, I love you." He tossed the crossbow down so that he could wrap his arms around her.

She giggled as she finally caught a glimpse of the man she married. "There you are," she murmured as they began to make out against the weapon room wall.

"Ummm…." Her voice had the intended effect as the couple pulled themselves away from each other begrudgingly. "Everyone else has already headed out."

"Sorry," Zack said almost sheepishly as he avoided Rosalie’s eye contact. It wouldn’t have bothered him except the fact that he knew he was just caught in the act by his niece. "Well, better late than never." With that he picked up the discarded crossbow and gave a last longing look to his wife.

"Please, be careful," Kelly begged. Zack brushed her off with a shrug, but she grabbed his arm as he headed out the door. "Just come home safe."

"Always." And with a wink he was gone.

*~*~*

"So, what’s up between you and Donna lately?"

Josh looked up from the memo he was desperately trying to edit. "Huh?"

Matt Santos was leaning up against the door jam which connected the Oval Office with the Chief of Staff. "She’s a good woman."

Josh blinked. It should be illegal for the president to have free time. Free time meant that Josh had to run the free world and entertain the only man on the planet he couldn’t blow off. "Yes, Sir."

"I say this because," Santos let himself wander over to Josh’s sofa. "Good women deserve good husbands."

He sighed. A normal person would receive the phrase ‘Suck it,’ but President Santos was anything but ordinary. Josh gave him an eye roll and a nod. 

"Marry her, Josh!"

Josh grinned as he returned to his memo. "You know, it may surprise you but it’s her decision as much as mine. I ask her, she says later, I edit another foreign economics bill for the State Department."

Santos sighed. "Helen and I just feel like we’re standing in the way of your relationship."

"You are, but we’re cool with that."

"Josh—"

"Sir." Josh threw a hand in the air. "Trust me. Donna is excited about finally getting the action-packed career she always dreamed of. She wants to hold on to it as long as she can. Me." Josh shrugged with a patent smirk. "I’m a pro. I figure I can give myself a couple years and find you a suitable replacement before I head out and begin working on the next candidate I can get into this office."

Santos smiled. "Have you talked to Sam, yet?"

"Nah, but why should I? He just has to show up. I’m the guy doing all the hard work."

"I’ll remember that next time I’m forced with the choice of whether or not to nuke Iraq."

"‘Kay."

*~*~*

Kelly wrinkled her nose and tilted her head slightly to the left. "Maybe."

Rosie rolled her eyes. "Maybe?"

"Papa Giles was instructing you on your Latin. I have no idea if that’s history or rituals."

Rosie took back the book she had snuck from Wesley’s library. "Well…I just won’t read it out loud."

"Good girl."

As Fred came into the room, Rosie’s eyes lit up. Not only did she love the new friend, but she figured the woman had to have more intelligence than her mother on ancient languages. "Hey, Fred!"

Fred seemed to blush at the acknowledgement. "Hi, Rosie!"

"I borrowed this book. Do you think Wesley will mind?"

"Probably not. What is it?"

"I’m not sure," Rosie admitted, bringing it over for Fred’s examination. "Papa is teaching me Latin, but I don’t really recognize many of the words."

"Ummm…." Fred looked at the text.

"I’ve learned Spanish and Italian. The cool guy at the deli mentioned teaching me and Will Arabic."

"Really?" Rosie nodded as she continued to look at the book. "That’s…really impressive."

"Papa thinks that Will has a better ear than me."

"William knows foreign languages, too?"

Kelly stepped into the conversation. "Not much. Giles has worked very hard at giving them an expanded education from what they get in regular schools."

"He’s taught me piano. Dad and Uncle Spike said they would teach me guitar."

"Yeah?" Fred was amazed at how much an eight year old could know.

"Well…that was before." Rosie now looked to her mother. "Is Uncle Spike and Aunt Buffy gonna come back to New York with us?"

Kelly paused. "Well, since nothing has been said different then I would say so."

"I thought maybe they were going to come live here with Uncle Zack now that things are bad."

More than anything, Kelly saw her daughter’s perception and intelligence as a blessing and a curse. Under the circumstances of the type of life she forced her child to lead, she figured the advantages outweighed the disadvantages, but that didn’t mean she didn’t sometimes wish Rosie would pay a little less attention to the world around her. Or at least comment less. "It’s gonna get better, sweets."

Rosie looked skeptical. "Whatever." She turned her attention back to Fred. "Is the book in Latin?"

Fred blinked, forgetting about the text as she watched the exchange between mother and daughter. "Actually, I think it may be Sumerian."

"Awesome!" Rosie plucked the book from Fred’s hands.

"Don’t read it out loud," Kelly reminded as the blonde girl ran off to the other room.

"I know!"

"And tell your brother to draw only on the paper." As Rosie bounded away, Kelly gave an apologetic smile to Fred. "He has a tendency to draw on anything he can get his hands on. It wasn’t too big a deal until we found him one day in the photo album. I had a red beard and Spike had a fish on his head."

"Oh."

Kelly waved a hand dismissively. "Thank God for Willow. She was able to teach me a few quick spells over the phone to erase the marks." Kelly paused and furrowed her brows. "That reminds me, I probably should tell her that I need a spell for when I accidentally turn the photos on fire."

"Oh my!"

Kelly smiled. "I’m trying to learn a few spells in my free time. One of the many hobbies and tasks that I have taken on in my new unlife."

"That’s…amazing."

The brunette vampire shrugged as she picked up a random toy left by her son. "I don’t know. I just figure that I have enough time on my hands that I want to make it count. I want to go to medical school, law school and learn to play the cello."

"Really?"

"Well, Buffy and Spike think it’s kinda funny the way Zack and I carry on. He wants to learn to fly a plane a perform heart surgery." Both women took a moment to laugh. Then, Kelly’s tone turned more serious. "They tell us that we don’t know what its like to be vampires. I guess Buffy’s experience comes more from her Slayer days that true experience. Zack and I know that we have more humanity than any vampire should ever understand since we’ve never been soulless."

"Is that a problem?" Fred asked genuinely.

"I don’t think so in the end. I mean there are moments when more primal urges overwhelm me. It’s…very different the way your body and mind functions when you’re a vampire. I’ve worked really hard to make sure that I have enough in me to make sure that my children have all the attention they need."

"It seems to be working."

Kelly beamed. "Thank you." Then she frowned. "I’m wondering if that hasn’t been part of Zack’s problem lately."

"Being a vampire?"

"Well…yes and no. Like I said, you have very different feelings when you are sired. Stuff…well stuff I can’t explain. And I think that could be what is happening between him and Spike right now. Occasionally, whenever things become really serious…apocalypses and the whatnot, there is a moment of power struggle between Spike and Zack. I think I understand it, but we’ve never discussed it."

"Wow, that’s…complicated."

"I’m sure it will all work out in the end."

William burst into the room at the moment. He hesitated for a moment when he realized his mother wasn’t alone, but decided that the company was friendly enough to continue. "Look!" He ran over with a piece of paper with an assortment of crayon colors upon it. "It’s our family!" Given his age and the space given, William had done a remarkable job of drawing a picture showing Zack, Kelly, Rosie, William, Spike, Buffy, Giles, Zack Wright, Cordelia, Rosalie, Fred, Wes, Gunn and Lorne.

"That’s very good," Kelly reassured. William took the praise and bounced away to the room to which Rosie had retreated. She turned to Fred. "It’s all very confusing to him right now. I don’t say that I blame him." She handed the picture to Fred.

"They really are so sweet."

Kelly sighed as she looked off toward the front door. "I just hope we can keep them this way."

*~*~*

"Damn," Morris said as they finished dusting three vampires that jumped them down the last alley. "You’re pretty good for a human." He let his face make its transition back to more human features.

"Thanks," Rosalie said dryly as she dusted off herself.

"Seriously," he met her eyes. "You’re good. He must’ve taught you a lot."

She blushed slightly at the mention of her dad. They had been relatively silent over the past hour. The one heated discussion occurred over whether Ewan McGregor or Alec Guinness was a better Obi Wan. "Yeah, he’s good."

"I’ve noticed," he admitted as he took a hand to his tender right cheek. "Trust me, I’ve seen him and felt him in action."

Rosalie was quiet for a moment. "Is that why you don’t like him?"

He sighed. "I don’t dislike him…In fact I really think I might like him."

"Then what? You’re gonna take out on him all the shit you feel for Derek."

Zack narrowed his gaze. "No." He shifted his crossbow to run a hand through his hair. "I mean, I think I like him. We just haven’t had that first real sit down where you know…we don’t pummel each other."

Rosalie smirked. "Yeah."

Zack gave her a stern look. "Look, we’re gonna end this. I know that Derek has hurt us all, but you’ve been hit harder than anyone else. You and your dad."

Rosalie was touched by the vampire she was seeing now. She had a feeling that this was the real Zack Morris; the guy who had the awesome wife, two wonderful children and a series of good people who loved him. This Zack helped her understand how Spike and Buffy could have stood beside this guy for a decade. "Yeah. Whatever."

The next few moments were quiet as the duo made a slow, steady patrol of their designated area. It was almost half an hour before the next vampire surge came upon them. Six vampires surrounded them in a manner that left both feeling highly suspicious. The battle left the bruised and battered, but six soulless vampires were dust in the end.

"Hey!" Zack called after he noticed Rosalie lying on the ground. "Are you all right?" He was by her side before she could reply.

"Fine," she grunted. "I just decided to take a break."

"We can head back to the Hyperion if we need to."

"No."

Neither one of them had time to notice the two vampires until it was too late. Zack immediately recognized his voice as he took a step into the light. "Oh, how sentimental. Does Rosie Posie need a Band-Aid for her boo boo?"

Zack clenched his teeth, but remained kneeled at Rosalie’s side, practically holding her to the ground as she began to get up. "Angelus."

Angelus’ blonde accomplice stepped closer to her lover. "Gag me with a spoon." Then she took another step forward. "Though this is pretty cute. Bet Derek never thought he’d be this fucked over."

"Darla," Zack said coldly.

The acknowledgement of the female vampire’s identity sent Rosalie into a rage. She pushed back on Zack’s gentle resistance and sprang up from the ground. "You bitch!"

Darla responded with a rich cackle. "Oh, this is fun. You look so much like her." Then she paused. "But your father’s eyes."

"Fuck you!"

"And his mouth." She smirked. "Even when I started dragging that dagger across her stomach, your mother never invoked such a filthy vocabulary." She relished in the horror that immediately struck the girl. "She would be so ashamed right now."

The next moment was a flash of action. Try as he might, Morris couldn’t keep Rosalie from charging toward Darla in a moment of blind rage. Darla was beyond prepared for the reaction and sent the girl flying into the concrete wall.

"Goddamn," Zack growled as he changed over to game face. "Leave her the fuck alone!"

The couple laughed in his face as the youngest vampire took a threatening step toward them. "This is rich. This is going to be a real Kodak moment."

The comment had the intended effect as Zack paused. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You’ll see," Angelus smugly replied.

The next moment gave way to exactly what the couple had been insinuating. Zack seemed paralyzed by a moment of intense pain; within seconds he was on the concrete cradling himself.

"It hurts, doesn’t it?" Angelus’ voice seemed wickeder than before. "It’s okay. You’ll feel a lot better soon."

*~*~*

After getting Cordy to settle down and eat dinner with Fred, Rosie, William and herself, Kelly decided to go upstairs and check on Zack Wright. She assumed that after a long night of sleep, Wright would wake up in the morning groggy, but otherwise healthy. But that didn’t mean that Wolfram and Hart couldn’t try something more sinister and unpredicted.

She had forgotten about Nikki until she walked into the room. Her dislike for the woman and her attitude was multiplied by a thousand as she walked into Wright and Cordy’s bedroom to find her kneeling over the demon hunter’s limp form. Her lips were pressed against his in a gentle, yet passion filled kiss. The real problem was in the fact that Zack Wright was completely unconscious.

"Something tells me that this means more to you than it does to him."

Nikki jumped off the bed defensively. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

Kelly arched a brow. "Funny how I was just about to ask you the same."

The younger woman began to storm past the brunette vampire. "I don’t have time for this."

"What a tease. You just sat here and got him all hot and bothered and now you’re just gonna walk off." She made a point of blocking the doorway. "He’s doing a good job of hiding the disappointment."

"You don’t understand!" Nikki nearly screamed. She then tried to shove past Kelly, who countered by shoving the younger woman back into the room.

"Try me."

Nikki’s anger seemed to mix with a sense of despair as she turned back to face Wright’s body. "It’s not supposed to be like this."

"Yeah, I agree," Kelly replied. "Especially since his pregnant girlfriend is downstairs and he’s completely unconscious right now."

If Nikki was any less of a bitch, she would have likely crumpled at this point. Instead she snapped back. "It was never supposed to be her."

Kelly blinked. "He was supposed to knock you up?"

"She was just a temporary thing. He never meant for it to last."

"Oh, and the decade long relationship before he impregnated her was just a fling?"

"He loves me."

"Yeah, it seems that the Zacks are both pretty affectionate with people they care about. They love a lot of people."

"No," Nikki screamed. "He loves me!"

Kelly was shocked. She realized that Nikki really did believe the delusion. She didn’t know what to say. The claim couldn’t be any farther from the truth. In their brief time at the Hyperion, Kelly had witnessed endless displays of the love between Cordelia and Zack. The fear that Zack had shown when Cordy had "labor" pains displayed the deepest love that Kelly could ever view. "Nikki," she sighed. "He loves her."

Nikki scoffed. "Why would he have wanted me around all these years, huh? Why did he take me in after Amber’s death and never once ask me to do anything else. He loves me. He’s always loved me. He loved me before Amber. I was just too young at the time." She was frantically waving her hands in the air. "Tell me why he’s wanted me around all these years."

"Maybe he just never had the heart to tell you to go." And with that, Kelly moved out of the doorway so that Nikki could storm past.

Seconds after Nikki left her presence, Kelly was interrupted by another woman’s voice. "Did I just miss something?"

Kelly turned from her examination of Zack Wright’s limp body, to look at Cordy in the doorway. "I don’t know how to tell you this…"

Cordelia’s brows perked, her eyes jumping to the furious form of Nikki just as she disappeared around the corner. "If it involves Nikki, I’ll believe anything." She tossed a glance to the still-slumbering Wright. "Did she try something?"

"Definite try something?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Molest him?"

"Cordy!"

"Oh please. Would I really have said it like that if I were surprised?"

Kelly’s nose wrinkled in disgust. "You mean…you’re okay with this?"

Cordelia stared at her for a long second. "Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with my boyfriend’s former sister-in-law deciding to mack on his sedated lips. Are you insane?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I’m just not surprised. Nikki’s had the hots for Zack since well before I met him." Cordelia crossed her arms and tossed another glance into the room. "I don’t know if he ignores it or just lacks perception…she’s followed him around for years…first to find Darla, and then…I dunno. I guess he got used to her and didn’t question it when she failed to return to her own life."

"She calls you and Zack a fling."

Cordelia shrugged again. "And I call her delusional. My money’s on one of us being right."

Things fell quiet for a second. Then, "Are you going to tell Zack?" Kelly asked.

"Tell him? No. See this face?" Cordelia pointed to herself. "This is not the face of a worried woman. That man in there is whipped in more ways than I care to divulge in something that’s not a Penthouse letter. Nikki’s only hurting herself."

Kelly nodded, though she didn’t know exactly what to make of that. She understood Cordelia’s logic, sure, but there was something to be said for cutting old strings. If Nikki was hurting herself over something which would never come to be, she needed to be corrected. And fast.

Before the hurt became too deep to heal.

*~*~*

Fred glanced up from the book she was skimming as Spike and Wesley traipsed through the front door and into the lobby. "Any luck?" she asked.

"Deader than me out there," Spike noted. "Buffy back yet?"

"No. But I wouldn’t worry."

"Not worried, pidge," he replied, though the look in his eyes betrayed him. Try as he might, there was no way for the vampire not to worry about the woman he loved, even if the woman he loved happened to be a force any demon this side of the hemisphere would have to be barmy to mess with. "Anythin’ of interest happen here?"

Fred shrugged, her face brightening as Wesley came forward. "Nope," she replied. "I mean, Kelly caught Nikki trying to play tonsil hockey with Zack, but—"

"What?"

Wesley feigned a sigh, maneuvering behind the check-in counter to the refrigerator, which had, over the past few days, become a haven of stored blood, beer, milk, and the occasional TV dinner. "Nikki," he said. "Amber’s sister."

Spike blinked at him. "Yeah, mate, I am familiar with the name. She has the hots for Zangy now?"

Fred shrugged. "She always kinda has."

"It’s something we all know," Wesley agreed.

Spike frowned. "I din’t know. I always know rot like that, an’ I din’t know."

"It became apparent after you and Buffy left. Rather, when Nikki saw Wright was rather serious about Cordelia." Wesley shrugged. "I believe she harbored the delusion that one day, when he was ready to fall in love again, it would automatically be her. It never occurred to her that he might find someone else."

"So she decides to snog him while he’s passed out?" Spike blew out a breath and slid his hands into his duster pockets. "Charming girl."

"I did find one little thing while you guys were out," Fred offered with a small wave. But at their expectant faces, she felt bad for mentioning anything at all. "I just…well, I didn’t find anything…I just realized something."

Wesley nodded, reaching out subconsciously to tuck a lock of fallen hair behind her ear. "What is it, darling?"

"Derek Morris," she said, "is definitely the Patriarch."

There was a long pause.

Spike arched a brow. "Uhhh…"

"Well," Wesley murmured with a slightly dopey grin. "I knew there was a reason we were keeping you around."

"Other than the fact that you love me?" she asked meekly, shutting her book, her face flaming.

Wesley’s grin broadened as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Yes…other than that."


	12. Chapter 12

Rosalie awoke in a dirty alley. The pavement grated beneath her skin. Every bone in her body felt fragile. Shapes blurred and colors distorted. The scent of rotting food and cigarettes clogged the air. And blood. Blood was on the ground. Blood was on her hands. Human blood. Her blood.

_Darla._

The name came from nowhere, a bullet through a frozen night, jerking her at once to her feet. She ignored the pain in her leg. Ignored the gash in her head. Ignored her blurred vision and the spinning scenery which seemed determined to send her back to the ground. The bitch was here. Somewhere. She’d seen her. God, she’d felt her. Darla. The fucking bitch who’d murdered her mother. The vampire who had destroyed her father, who had nearly destroyed her—who _would_ have destroyed her…only…

Rosalie frowned, pressing a hand to her brow. Blood.

She was bleeding. She was bleeding. But she was alive.

Darla had left her alive.

_Zack._

Oh God. Her uncle. Her vampire uncle, Zack. He’d been out here, too. The last thing she remembered was his screaming—the air, the impact of brick against her skull, and then nothing.

He’d screamed for her.

"Zack?" she called tentatively, even as her brain scrambled to forewarn that drawing attention to herself in this state ranked right up there with voluntarily throwing herself off a bridge without a bungee. Rosalie had a knack for ignoring the voice—it was what had made her a fighter rather than someone who fled at the first flash of fang. She had to learn to beat the screaming child within into a stoic bystander, for if she betrayed fear, she gave the enemy the advantage.

She still had a stake. She felt it strapped to her calve. There was that and the small vial of holy water she kept on her persons at all times—the same which miraculously hadn’t smashed when her body collided with the wall.

Oh, and her mother’s necklace. The same her father had given her the day of the funeral. The cross. The sign she only trusted to protect her from demons. The sign which had nothing to do with faith and everything to do with survival.

Rosalie instinctively reached for the cross, wrapping her calloused fingers around it and squeezing hard. It was habit. When she was little, she’d thought perhaps if she squeezed hard enough, her mother would feel her somewhere. Would feel and protect her from the dangers ahead.

"Zack?" she said again, her voice hoarse.

A small gale of wind blew a torn newspaper across her feet, and a cat a few yards ahead let out a low meow before knocking over a trashcan. The harsh, metallic clank resounded through the empty alley like an echo through a gorge.

Zack was gone.

Her uncle was gone.

"Oh God," Rosalie moaned, her limp legs turning her back to the Hyperion. "Oh God. Dad. _Dad."_

Her uncle was gone, and the woman who had murdered her mother was to blame.

If they had her uncle, it could only get worse.

"Get Dad," she muttered, forcing herself into a run. "Get Spike."

She had to get help. There was no fucking way Darla was going to take another member of family away.

Not while she breathed.

*~*~*

"Hello lover."

It had been a while, admittedly, since Buffy had used a crossbow, but she found it was incredibly similar to the old adage of riding a bicycle. Once taught, it wasn’t something that one forgot. The weapon went from limp in her arms to trained on Angelus in half a blink.

"Thought I smelled somethin’ foul," Gunn quipped beside her.

"Ah. You brought the Moore." The dark, chocolate eyes which she had worshipped as a love-struck, not to mention incredibly foolish teen fixed on her companion. The mere memory of those days made her stomach roll. "Funny. I thought since the party in the dungeon, old Spike wouldn’t let you out of his sight."

"Well, see, one of Spike’s many, many attributes—all of which are vastly superior to yours—is knowing not to underestimate me." Buffy cocked her head. "You could only beat me before if you got a big bad law firm to chain me up. What on earth makes you think you can take me on now?"

"You’re really not sick of riding Spike’s cock yet?"

The demon in her chest snarled, but Buffy managed to keep her own reaction stoic. "Need I remind you who’s pointing the crossbow at whom?"

His hands came up. "Just making polite conversation."

"Ah. And here, I would’ve sworn you’d at least show a little common sense and not be so eager to try and piss me off when I have all this vampire strength I’ve been dying to use." She flashed a blindingly fake smile. "Slayer plus vampire…think you can handle it?"

Angelus’s eyes raked down her body in a way which made every inch of her skin crawl. "Oh baby," he purred. "I’m looking forward to it. But really, Buff, I thought after all the quality time we’ve spent together, you knew me better than…" He made a face and waved at the crossbow. "This."

"Forgive me for not trusting a soulless monster."

"You talkin’ about me or your lover?" Angelus’s brows perked. "Soulless is one thing, but—"

"Are you really gonna stand here all night and try to piss me off by discussing Spike?" she spat.

"I’m just curious. Of all the vamps in the world—"

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Honey-pie, you need to remember, I’ve had you, too, and I know exactly how well you…measure up. Or don’t, rather. So why don’t we stop harping on the endless reasons why Spike is and always will be better than you and get to more pressing matters." She arched a brow. "Derek Morris?"

Angelus shrugged carelessly. "I know what you know."

"Pity. He was the one thing keeping my finger from slipping."

"Zack Morris, though…he’s a different matter, altogether." He offered another shrug. "I got the forward scoop."

"What the fuck’s he talkin’ about?" Gunn demanded.

"A perfectly fair question," Buffy murmured.

Angelus spread his hands. "I came to you in amity, Buff. Just a friendly warning between mortal enemies, eh? Why don’t you lose the crossbow?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I’m getting sick of this." Before either man could react, she pointed the crossbow downward and shot an arrow through the tender, meaty flesh of Angelus’s upper leg, sending him to the ground with a howl of pain. "Talk fast, talk now."

"Dayum!" Gunn cried appraisingly. "That was awesome."

"Fucking bitch!"

She shrugged a shoulder. "From you, I’ll take the compliment. Now…" An arrow reloaded, she assumed position again. "You were saying about Zack?"

Angelus growled, fisting the arrow in his leg and pulling hard. "You know what would make me perfectly happy right now?" he snarled. "Well, your head on a pike is definitely up there, but the surprise waiting for you back at your little headquarters?"

It wasn’t subtle; it wasn’t meant to be subtle. Buffy’s eyes went wide.

"That’s right, lover. Now—"

She aimed and fired again, this time for his heart. Angelus, though, while he might be many things, was not the sort of vamp to make the same mistake twice. He caught the arrow in his hand, but his smug smirk was wasted; Buffy raced over to him in a flash, smacking him upside the jaw with her weapon and sending him flying to the pavement.

"Come on!" she barked at Gunn.

"What about him?" Gunn shouted back, giving Angelus a good, firm kick in the side before rushing to catch up with her.

But Buffy didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Her mind was focused on one irrevocable truth.

A truth too horrible to voice.

*~*~*

It wasn’t like Buffy to be so late.

Spike hesitated, then snickered slightly to himself as he raised a glass of pig’s blood to his lips. Well, if he wanted to be entirely honest, it was just like Buffy to be late. Only the blame behind her rather consistent tardiness tended to fall at his feet rather than hers. He had the irrational need to touch her all over all the time, as though she would vanish if he didn’t. It was the punchline to many familial jokes, but in honesty, Spike chalked his clinginess to the fact that several years ago, he’d nearly lost her.

He’d nearly lost her, and when he’d found her again, she’d been dead.

That hadn’t always been the excuse, of course. Before his memories were restored, he’d thought it more due to the falsified past and the many times he’d nearly lost her then—either due to his monstrosity, his selfishness, his mistakes, or…the time he’d…

Only that had never happened.

He just wished he could banish the false memory from his mind forever. The way her screams and protests echoed through his mind didn’t hurt any less, even if he knew they weren’t real.

Fact remained: Buffy was late. She was never late. Not when she didn’t have him to distract her.

The women were always punctual when they didn’t have their men around.

"Mmm."

Spike glanced up. Zack had returned.

"Everyone head to bed already?" he asked, taking slow, methodical steps across the lobby floor. "Kinda early, isn’t it?"

The second their eyes clashed, something in Spike’s gut twisted, curled with knowledge he did not want. Knowledge he could scarcely believe. He didn’t know how and bugger if he knew why, but in that pivotal second, he saw something he never thought he’d see. The difference, to others, might have been invisible. There might have been nothing at all. But Spike saw it immediately. Saw it, digested, and understood.

He didn’t know how others didn’t see it, to be honest. Never mind he hadn’t noticed the second Angelus returned to the fold so many years back. Back when Spike had been confined to a wheelchair and doting over a woman he’d dusted in a fit of rage not too long ago. He hadn’t seen it then, but he should have. There was so much that changed with the loss of a soul. The eyes became hard. The walk became confident. Every facet of the person who had once inhabited the vampire’s body drained into something else entirely. The creature before him couldn’t walk like Zack. Couldn’t talk like Zack. The creature before him didn’t even have Zack’s eyes.

And Spike saw it.

Only Zack, or what was left of him, didn’t know it. Shades of glee sparked behind cold, dead eyes. Zack thought he was here surprising them.

Zack thought him a fool.

It was hard to ignore the screaming voices in his head. The hysterical demands as to where Buffy was—why she wasn’t back yet—where Rosalie was, and how— _how_ —this man whom had once been his best friend could lose the piece that made him _Zack_ so thoroughly. How it could have happened like this. How it could have happened at all.

Somehow, though, Spike was able to shove everything behind the veil in his mind. Everything depended on the next few minutes.

"Where’s Rosalie?" Spike asked, surprising himself with how normal he sounded. The scent of the girl’s blood wafted all over Zack; not enough to suggest he’d tasted her, but enough to make Spike’s demon snarl. The best thing he could do right now was remain calm. "Wasn’ she with you?"

Zack shrugged, taking a few brazen steps forward. "We got separated. She not here?"

"No."

"And Buffy?"

The eagerness with which his beloved’s name was uttered was near enough to make Spike leap across the room. "Upstairs," he said shortly. "Why?"

"Ahhh, well…" A small smile tugged on Zack’s lips. "I gotta surprise for her, see. For you, too, come to think of it. Ah, hell, it’s a surprise for everyone. And it’s nothing that can be spread word of mouth…this is something you gotta see to believe."

Spike perked a brow. "So this is somethin’ you’re not tryin’ to hide, then?"

That lent the younger vampire pause. He frowned. "What?"

"The fact that your soul’s gone."

There was a long beat. The disappointment on Zack’s face was palpable, and though he tried to cover it, he didn’t cover it well. Frustration collided strong with anger, and the poise he’d tried so desperately to upkeep fell into fury Spike knew well. "You knew, then?"

"‘Course," Spike retorted, shrugging. "Any ninny could figure it, mate. S’pose Angelus fed you some rot about pullin’ the wool over our eyes. Din’t the miserable sod tell you how he faired the last time ‘round?"

"Considering the handiwork he did on your girl, I’d say pretty well."

The demon roared at that, but Spike managed to bite down, even if he couldn’t keep a dangerous edge from leaking into his voice. "An’ if he’s the role model you’re aimin’ yourself after, I’d do some research before you go all in. He had to tie her up to hit her."

"As long as the hits—and other things—get in, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?" Zack smiled nastily. "Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you ruining my big moment. Seems that’s all you’re good for these days. Stepping in. Calling time out’s on other people’s fun. Thinking you’re the big ref around here and we’re all your little cronies, set to do your bidding whenever you bark an order."

"I forget how goin’ soulless gives you the right to rewrite history."

"I can’t believe you held out on me this long," Zack countered, inhaling deeply. "All that nagging conscience just…I feel like I can breathe, metaphorically speaking, of course. If this is what it’s like not having to deny your demon, I gotta say, you were one fucking lame sire. At least do the decent thing and give a guy a choice!"

"Sorry. Cronies don’ get choices."

"Well, I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t matter." Zack’s face fell into an expression of mock-piety. "I can be good without a soul. Really. I mean, all I have to do is become pussy-whipped like you, right? Just find the right pussy…" He dragged his gaze upward, and Spike knew why. Kelly’s scent was suddenly thick in the air. "And while that flavor is delicious, I’m looking to try something a little…spicier. The same old thing grows a little bland after a while."

There was a frozen beat. "What’s going on?" Kelly asked, her voice not hurt, but definitely tense and confused. "Zack?"

A slow grin itched the younger vamp’s face. "That’s right, sugar," he drawled, spreading his arms. "Daddy’s home."

"Kelly," Spike said loudly. "Stay upstairs."

 _"Kelly,"_ Zack mimed in falsetto. _"Stay upstairs."_

There was a tremor in her voice. "Zack? What’s wrong? What happened?"

Zack laughed harshly, his black eyes dancing. "Oh, baby. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong at all."

Another beat. "Spike?"

And for whatever reason, hearing his wife voice his sire’s name made everything snap. The calm, arrogant grin on Zack’s voice faded, his face twisting into ugly rage. "SPIKE?" he snarled. " _SPIKE?_ Always _Spike_ with you people, isn’t it? Can’t _fucking_ trust what you’re told. Need _Spike_ to tell you everything’s all right? Need _Spike_ to rubberstamp every little decree? Need _Spike_ to lick your—"

"That’s enough," Spike barked, eyes flaring.

"Oh no, that’s not even in the ballpark of enough."

"Zack," Kelly said slowly, unable to keep the hurt from her voice, but remaining surprisingly calm for a woman notorious for sobbing over Cheetos commercials. "You’re upset, I know, but we talked. It’s all right. Everything’s a little…muddy right now, but—"

"Oh no. No, you dippy whore, _nothing’s_ muddy right now. I see everything. Bright and with such… _perfect fucking clarity._ " He turned to grin at Spike. "Say, you think this might’ve been the vague disclaimer Lorne gave us at the club? ‘Cause I gotta say…this is so much better than anything I could’ve dreamt up."

The rest unfolded in slow-motion. A sudden squeal from Wesley’s office split the room in half, and before Spike could react, William came racing across the foyer, either blissfully oblivious or in complete lack of understanding of what had occurred in the past few minutes. There was no reservation or fear on his face, just the normal joy of a child at being reunited with a parent, no matter how brief the separation.

"Daddy!" William screamed gleefully.

 _"NO!"_ Kelly shrieked, practically flying down the staircase. She was shaken and confused, but there was no doubt in her head at that moment that Zack should be far, far away from their children. "No, William, _don’t!"_

It was too late; Zack scooped William up into his arms. "Well, well, well," he drawled, raising the toddler to his chest, so that William faced his mother. Then his hand was around his son’s throat, and then laughter melted to tears. "This does perk things up, doesn’t it?"

"Zack, please," Kelly pleaded, her hands coming up. Her calm exterior had crumbled, tears at last spilling down her cheeks. "You…you don’t want to do this."

"Oh yeah?" Zack replied. "‘Cause it feels so right."

William screamed, his thrashes of protest becoming violent.

"I mean, come on. He wasn’t the world’s greatest kid. Look who we named him after."

Kelly shook her head hard. "You’re hurting him!"

He shrugged apathetically, tightening his grip around the boy’s throat. "I’ll buy you a new one."

Spike stepped forward, which proved to be a mistake, as it drew attention back to him. Zack quickly whirled back and clutched William harder. The child’s lips were turning blue, the fight in him fading. "Come on, _Willy_ ," he spat. "You don’t wanna spoil my—"

And then her scent hit the air. Spike about crashed relief, but there was no time. She was too fast—nearly too fast for him, and definitely too fast for a bloke who had no idea what sort of punch a slayer truly packed.

"You know what I forget?" Buffy quipped, burying a stake into Zack’s right side before anyone could blink. "How damn chatty you guys are when you go evil."

The sound of crunching bone was nothing compared to the man’s screams, whether of surprise or pain, no one could tell. It all happened fast. One second Zack was holding his dying son by the throat; the next, he was on the ground, howling and clutching his side. William would have crashed to the floor had it not been for Rosalie, who likewise materialized out of thin air.

Kelly rushed forward in a fit of tears, taking her son in her arms and rocking him back and forth.

"Fucking bitch," Zack snarled, sitting up and jerking the blood-drenched stake from his broken skin.

"Really, I’ve been called worse." She punctuated the words with a swift kick to his wound, seizing the stake when he dropped it on reflex. Then Gunn was there, too, a crossbow aimed at Zack’s head. The stake found its way over his heart.

"You think you’ve danced with me?" Buffy asked him softly. "Really, this whole _go after the people you’re closest to_ thing gets old and really, really predictable. What? Angelus not tell you that?"

"Oh my God," Kelly gasped, burying her face in her son’s hair. "Oh my God…"

"Zack, I’m giving you two options," Buffy continued conversationally, strengthened when Spike joined her at her side. "You can either continue this suicide mission, or you can look at the odds, realize you have a master vampire, a slayer-vampire, and a vampire whose son you just threatened all in the same room…not to mention Gunn and a girl raised by the best demon hunter this side of the Atlantic all looking to you for blood. I’ve never called you smart, but this is your chance to be not dumb. Come near me and mine again, and we’re going to have ourselves a problem."

"Yours are mine, too," Zack spat through gritted teeth, but there was resignation there. Realization. He knew he was outmatched; Spike knew he knew. If he fought, he could take one, maybe two down with him, but there was no way he was getting out alive.

Buffy quirked her head, brushed her hand against Spike’s, and retorted, "Not anymore."

Spike read the message. He read it loud and clear. Without even sparing each other a glance, they both kneeled forward, each taking an arm and dragging Zack toward the door.

All as Fred and Wesley appeared on the staircase, a book in Fred’s hand.

"This is really unfair," Zack murmured. "Seven against one?"

Spike and Buffy tossed him through the door without another moment’s hesitation, just in time for the last of the ritual to be recited.

 _"Hicce verbis consensus rescissus est,"_ Fred said, then closed the book and nodded to Wesley.

Buffy shrugged and leaned against the doorway, watching unsympathetically as Zack moaned and crawled to his feet. "Sorry, _buddy_ ," she drawled. "Angelus James-Bonded you."

"In a big ole way," Gunn agreed.

"Buffy telephoned me ten minutes ago," Wesley confirmed as he and Fred raced over to Kelly. "It just took that long to find the spell we used to revoke Angel’s invitation the last time he…"

"That’s fine, Wes," Buffy said. "I find your timing…almost cinematic."

Zack glared daggers at her, hatred so pure the devil would tremble blazing behind the nothing in his eyes. "There are other ways," he said.

"Yeah, there are," she agreed.

"An’ we know every single one of ‘em," Spike added. "Go back to Angelus, mate. Bet his lap’s getting cold."

"Angelus is _not_ my master."

Spike stared at him for a long moment, then burst out into harsh, unforgiving chuckles. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Why don’ you tell him that? See you around, if he leaves enough pieces, that is."

The door slammed shut without any finale.

At last, Spike and Buffy’s eyes met. In that second, a lifetime passed between them. The hurt and grief they’d forced themselves to shove aside made a glistening appearance, and they, as always, understood each other.

But this wasn’t the time for collapse. Not for them. They had to be strong now. Sorrow would come later. Sorrow would come when they were alone.

And on the same note, they raced to Kelly’s side, supporting her as she dissolved into tears.


	13. Chapter 13

The night was long and traumatic. Most of the events after Zack’s departure would only be remembered as a blur of raw emotions. Kelly struggled throughout the evening to keep herself from losing herself in her own grief; she had two terrified children to try to calm. Spike and Buffy showed the bonds of their friendship and love as they stood by her side for the remainder of the evening.

No one quite knew how to react after Zack was thrown from the Hyperion. While they had seen the loss of Angelus’s soul, it was still difficult to watch one of their own dissolve away into the world of evil with no clear explanation.

Everyone coped with the change of events in different ways. Fred and Wesley locked themselves away in the confines of the study. Gunn wandered close to the doors, but never cared to connect with anyone. Nikki seemed uninterested in anyone who wasn’t Wright and therefore decided to hide in the corner. Cordy, exhausted, went to the comfort of her lover’s unconscious arms.

Rosalie was visibly shaken with what had happened; she never divulged the events of her patrol with Zack and nobody had stopped yet to question her. Privacy was all she craved at this point. She needed to process her emotions before she shared them with anyone else and she felt that morning would give her clarity.

The hardest part of the evening fell upon the hands of the undead. The three vampires struggled to give the children enough reassurance and comfort. William was afraid to close his eyes and desperately cried for an explanation as to why his own father would try to hurt him. The boy had no comprehension of what a soul was and what the implications were if one were to lose it. All the child knew was that Daddy had hurt him and he didn’t want to be hurt again.

Rosie was harder to read. The events had traumatized her to the point that the child was in tears until well after midnight. Rose Melody Morris had never been a child to cry often; she resorted to anger before giving way to tears. Her personality and upbringing had always made her a unique child. But the events of tonight shoved her back into the reality and maturity of an eight year old girl who had just lost her father.

So many questions had been asked by the children, but there were no answers. Sleep finally overtook William around two in the morning. Rosie found the solace of sleep near three in the comfort of Buffy’s gentle arms. Once the children were down and out, the two elder vampires turned their attention to the issue of helping their friend.

Kelly didn’t know how to go on. Zack had no soul. She had lost the man she had planned to spend her eternity with. So many thoughts were racing through her head, but she was so afraid to ask. So afraid of the answers she might hear.

She couldn’t help it but at every chance she would look out the window. She knew that somewhere out there was Zack and that somewhere else was his soul. She just hoped that there would be a way for them to go back together again.

"Kelly," Buffy whispered as she placed a gentle hand on her childe’s shoulder. "Why don’t you go lay down with her now. I got her asleep." Kelly remained at the second floor window, her eyes never leaving the ground where her husband’s body was last seen.

"You need rest, pet," Spike urged. He hadn’t been able to comfort her with too many words tonight. That had led to some of Kelly’s questions. She wanted to ask Spike so many things, but she was afraid of the costs for the answers.

"Kelly," the Slayer urged once again. "There’s nothing else we can do tonight."

When the brunette vampire turned to them, her resolve left her once more and she broke into sobs. Her body crumpled all at once and Spike gathered her in his arms and carried her to the nearest chair. Kneeling before her, he held her hand as emotion took her away. "I-I can’t…"

Buffy knelt beside her mate and grasped Kelly’s other hand. "Yes, you can."

"I can’t do this!" she wailed. "Oh God, I can’t."

"We’re right here with you now." Spike squeezed her gently for reassurance.

She shook her head furiously as the sobs came as hard as ever. "No…No. I can’t do this. He’s…Oh God he’s…where is it?"

Spike and Buffy knew exactly what ‘it’ was, but they didn’t know the answer. They knew they didn’t have to tell her for there to be understanding.

Kelly continued on as she became more consumed by her grief. "How did this happen? Oh God…why did this happen?" She came back from the place she had drifted to look so that Buffy in the eyes. _"Why did this happen?"_

Buffy gasped. She had no answer. "I don’t know," she managed as tears began to well in her eyes. She had never seen the brunette so distraught.

"Is this my fault?" She sobbed. "Is this _my_ fault?"

Spike blinked. He felt that it was his own fault more than anyone else. He couldn’t possibly comprehend any possible scenario in which Kelly would be to blame. "Why would you say that?"

Kelly struggled for enough composure to form a cohesive sentence. "I know you think we’re naïve." She wasn’t as successful as she had planned. "I know you’ll say that we don’t understand, but we do. More than you think."

Spike and Buffy looked to one another. Neither one had any clue as to what she was talking about, but that didn’t stop Kelly from going on. "We really had talked about. So many nights we would lie in bed and talk about the future. We had eternity together and we had no idea what we were going to do, but we knew we were going to do it together." She broke down again and took a couple minutes to regain the ability to speak. 

She looked Buffy straight in the eyes. "We decided to do it. We were ready. Six months ago we knew that the children were away with Giles for the weekend. At the last minute we changed our minds. The timing wasn’t right. We knew the commitment. We watched you both and knew that once you did it there was no room for another higher commitment. We knew we couldn’t be parents to Rosie and William. Good parents."

Understanding flashed before her eyes. "Claim," Buffy whispered. "You and Zack were going to mate."

Kelly nodded as she began to cry hard once again. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were wrong. We decided to hold off until William graduated high school. Then our job would be completed enough that the children would be beginning their own journey. We would still be there as much as you two have been there for them. If they needed us we would run to their side, but…we could begin _our life_." Sobs shook her frame. "Maybe I was wrong. If we were claimed now then—"

"No," Spike softly assured.

"Maybe…maybe my soul could have stopped his from going away. Maybe I could have helped him hold on."

"It doesn’t work like that," Buffy soothed as her other hand came up to gently stroke Kelly’s fallen hair.

Kelly looked skeptical, but moved on to her next pressing question. "Can we…please tell me if we can get it back?"

The couple looked to one another. This was another question they were unable to truly answer. Of course, every part of them was hoping as much as Kelly that they would be able to return Zack to himself, but they were wise enough to know that it wouldn’t be an easy ordeal.

 _"Tell me!"_ Kelly demanded in her desperation.

"We’ll do everything we can," Buffy said with a nod. "Everything. This is only the beginning, not the end. I love him too much to let him get away from us without a fight."

Those few words seemed to be enough to begin Kelly’s slow movement toward rationality. Her hysterical sobs gradually ebbed away as she continued to hold onto both vampires for strength. "Do you think this was what Lorne was talking about?" She asked after several minutes of silence.

"I doubt there could be anything darker than this in Zack’s aura. Honestly, could it possibly get any worse than this?"

Kelly and Spike gave Buffy incredulous glares. "What?" she said throwing her hands in the air.

"Did you just mean to jinx us, pet?" Spike asked. "Or are you trying to be funny?"

Buffy paused. "Hey! That was no jinx." She looked to Kelly. "Did that sound like a jinxy type of phrase?"

"Little bit." But for the first time since Zack had walked into the Hyperion, there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "So obviously I am going to blame you for whatever bad might happen next."

Buffy frowned. "Do I get credit when I make everything better?"

"I guess."

"Good," Buffy gave a look and a nod to her husband. He understood her eyes. She wanted to stay with Kelly tonight. Though they had a moment of clarity with the woman, she hadn’t yet truly regained her strength from the blow she had been dealt earlier in the evening. The faint glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel still may not be enough to keep her from falling back into despair a few more times before the children awaken and cling for the assurance only a mother can provide. As Kelly’s sire and best friend, Buffy wanted to be there for her.

She hadn’t yet fully processed just how much her husband needed her right now. Spike gave a quick nod. "Why don’ you two go lay down in the room next to Rosie? I’ll just stay here an’ hold down the fort an’ all that."

The two gave weak smiles as they made their way to the room in question. In the years after, Kelly would never forget the gentle warmth of Buffy during that first night. She was so comforting in the way she mothered her into bed and tried so desperately to coax her into sleep. "Buffy? Honestly, can we get his soul back?"

Buffy sighed. "I’m not sure. But I can only think of one person on Earth who has a shot."

*~*~*

Willow had forgotten her cell as she made her way out that morning, she hadn’t expected it to be a very big deal. In fact, she enjoyed the freedom of knowing that one and only person had her attention that morning. Unless Ophelia decided to deliver her a message, which thankfully she had not.

"Are you sure that wasn’t awkward?" Sam asked for the tenth time.

"I’m sure," Willow smiled.

"You do know that was entirely random, right?"

"That’s what you said."

"It’s true!"

"I know because your mother said it also."

Sam winced. "Seriously, I didn’t know that she would be at the restaurant."

"Well, you did say it was her favorite restaurant before we entered."

"I know, but—"

"So the fact that she was there only proves to me that you weren’t lying."

"I didn’t want you to get awkward because you’ve met my parents."

"I met your mother," Willow corrected.

"Yes."

"I didn’t meet your father even though your mother and you spent thirty minutes discussing him and his mistress."

"Yeah…was that awkward?"

"The meeting your mother or the hearing you two talk thirty minutes about your father’s mistress?"

"Either or both."

"Not really…well I think that you and your mother have some issues concerning the mistress, but it really isn’t my place to say."

"Willow."

She threw her hands in the air. "Fine. I take it back. No issues."

He gave her a smirk. "Seriously? Are we okay?"

"I would like to say we are more than okay." Willow was surprised at herself and the seductive tone her voice had suddenly taken on. She wasn’t nearly as surprised when Sam’s eyes responded in kind.

Surprise overtook her once again when her cell phone went off. The only ones who reached her on it were her Muggle and demon friends and they were all informed of her extended delay before making the drive into Sunnydale. Passively, she walked over and plucked it off of her nightstand. "Hey Buffy!" she chirped. "Anything new?"

"Is everything okay?" Buffy breathed. "I’ve been trying to reach you for hours."

"Oh, I’m fine." She smiled at Sam. "I’ve been having a wonderful time here in Orange County. Sam and I went out to watch the sunrise on the beach and then went to his mother’s favorite restaurant on the pier. And no," she gave a smirk to the brunette man watching her in awe. "I did not find it awkward that I just met and had breakfast with his mother." She focused back on Buffy. "Anything happening there?"

"Willow, Zack lost his soul last night. He tried to kill William and now he’s on the loose. I met up with Angelus last night so I think he’s with him. Also, Spike and I have realized that the past decade of our lives have been built on false memories. Wolfram and Hart has screwed with our memories and therefore screwed over everyone in our extended network. And while that’s a serious thing, the bigger issue right now is that Zack is soulless…and he’s evil. Wicked. And the first thing a soulless vampire does is go after the ones he loved when he had a soul." Buffy would have paused here for breath had her undead lungs needed any. "So Will…I need you to drop whatever you’re doing with that guy and get to L.A. right now. I need to get Zack’s soul back before I’m forced to do something I really don’t want to do."

Willow was in shock. She had no idea how to react to everything in the presence of Sam. She kept the same smile she had just moments ago plastered to her face, even though the spark had long left her eyes. "Right. Yeah. Gotcha."

"Will?"

"Uh huh?" she was growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"We really need you now."

"Sure, Buffy. No problem. Yeah. See ya later! Buh bye!" Willow snapped her phone shut and gave Sam another goofy grin. "That was Buffy."

"Yeah, I guessed that much from the ‘hi Buffy’ part of the conversation."

"Buffy is my best friend from school."

"I remember you telling me."

"We’ve been through a lot…her and I."

"Yeah?"

"Some would say we’ve been through hell and back."

"Close friend."

"The closest."

"Okay."

"Well…she needs to see me."

"Needs to see you?"

"Needs to see me now."

Sam blinked. "Now?" Willow nodded. "You need to leave right now?"

Willow had already begun gathering together her belongings. She was very tempted to just forget about protecting herself from Sam and whipping out the magic. She knew she could erase his memory, but she remembered how much Tara had resented her for things like that.

_‘Spike and I have realized that the past decade of our lives have been built on false memories. Wolfram and Hart has screwed with our memories and therefore screwed over everyone in our extended network.’_

Willow paused. Did Tara always exist or was that the kind of memories she was talking about. The redhead shook her head and moved on. "It’s…serious."

"Oh, God," Sam groaned. "The breakfast was a big thing."

She kept right on packing. "Breakfast was nummy."

"I knew I should have just turned around and left when I saw my mother there."

Willow stopped searching for her underwear long enough to look up at Sam’s face. "It was never a thing."

"Then it’s me. I’m the big thing. I freaked you out and now you coordinated an escape plan with Buffy."

"I did not coordinate anything and you don’t freak me out. She has a thing and I have to go…fix her thing."

"You aren’t trying to coordinate an escape plan because I’ve been too forward?"

"Sam…last night I took your boxers off with my teeth. I really don’t think you have to worry about being too forward."

"Then why don’t I come with you?"

Willow stopped all movement. This was becoming a whole new thing. "Come with me?" she squeaked.

"Yeah! I can come with you and then you can take care of Buffy’s thing. You take care of the thing and then I will begin to my courtship of you in a more traditional manner."

"I don’t know if that’s a good idea."

"Well I know we jumped the gun with the sexcapades, but I assure there is a gentleman somewhere inside of me."

"That’s not what I meant," Willow clarified.

"Well, I at least think that I’m creative enough to come up with some better date ideas."

"Sam—"

"Oh!" His eyes lit up. "There’s this great dinner cruise. They take you out right at sunset on this catamaran. Candlelit dinner on the sea."

"I don’t think that’s a good idea."

"Sam frowned. "You’re probably right. On the sea the winds pick up. Candles could get blown over and the flames could catch the catamaran on fire. We’d die at sea and really lose the entire romantic ambiance of the evening."

He left her no easy way to do this. "I don’t think I want you to come with me."

Sam stopped. In an instant he went from looking like the most confident, sexy man on the planet to the most hurt, offended little puppy alive. Either way he was still the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on. "Oh."

Willow crumpled. "No ‘oh.’"

"No?"

"No. I _want_ you to come, I just don’t _want_ you to come." She sighed. "You know what I mean?"

"I can honestly say that I do not."

Willow sighed. "Buffy is kinda…eccentric. And I’m really afraid that this is gonna turn into something you really don’t want to get involved in."

Sam held up a hand. "Look, Willow. I understand. The past few days have been amazing. Honestly, I can say that I have never felt a connection to woman like this before. I feel like you’ve worked some kind of magical spell over me to make me fall head over heels for you!"

"I have not!" Willow said defensively.

"But I understand that fate isn’t always kind. If you don’t feel the same, I get it."

The thing was that she did feel exactly the same. And she didn’t think she could bear to lose him now. She didn’t even care if there was an apocalypse at the moment; all she wanted was to make everything all right between them. And that’s why she made the biggest mistake of her life.

"Sam, why don’t you come with me to go see Buffy?"

Sam beamed. "I’d love too." A pause. "Buffy?"

Willow hurriedly resumed packing. It was probably a good thing they would be together since she had just shoved his jeans into her suitcase. That and she was probably the safest person to be around during times of apocalypse. "I told you this might get kinda strange."

"Yeah, but who names their kid Buffy?"

"Just wait until you meet Spike."

*~*~*

"She’s coming," Buffy announced, snapping her cell phone shut. "Willow knows and she’s on her way."

Kelly nodded rigidly, wringing the handkerchief Wesley had handed her upon descending into the lobby that morning. "What happens now?" she asked shortly. "What do we do?"

"Is there anyone else in town?" Cordelia asked from where she sat on the settee, her hand absently caressing her bulging belly. "Anyone else Zack feels close to? The first thing Angelus did when he lost his soul was…well you guys know the drill now."

Kelly didn’t answer. Her eyes had gone off again.

"His mom," Buffy replied when Kelly froze. "His mom. Kelly’s folks. I think that’s everyone. Kelly…" She hesitated, then approached her childe, reaching for her hand. "Kelly…look at me?"

It took a second. She blinked and slowly forced herself to meet Buffy’s eyes.

"Is there anyone else?" Buffy asked softly. "Anyone Zack might feel…close to?"

There was another pause. Kelly thought, then shook her head slowly. "No," she said at last. "No…no you’re right. My parents. His mother. That’s it."

"Buffy," Wesley said, snapping her attention back. "Do you know the way to the Kapowskis?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And to Mrs. Morris?"

"Do you need me to come with you?"

Wesley shook his head. "No. Fred and I can revoke the invitations."

"Zack can walk around in the daylight," Buffy forewarned. "Like me. Like Spike and Kelly. We all…we have a hybrid of the Gem of Amara. All of us. If he wants to get to you right now, he can."

Wesley shrugged. "I know you remember me as a nancy prat with a stake up his arse, Buffy, but I can handle my own. If we learned anything from last night, it’s Zack is entirely over-confident. He believes soullessness has endowed him with powers he didn’t have previously. If he attempts to take me on…"

"You can’t kill him," Kelly said suddenly, her voice erratic. "You can’t kill him, Wesley. You can’t."

Wesley’s hands came up. "I won’t."

"I need him."

"He won’t die."

"You can’t kill him!" She whirled to face her sire, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Buffy, tell him he can’t kill Zack!"

Buffy nodded slowly. "He won’t kill Zack. I promise." She leveled a meaningful gaze at Wesley. "But he will protect himself. And he will protect Fred."

"With my life," Wesley swore ardently. "Kelly, I will absolutely not kill Zack. I wouldn’t do that to you…to your children. Not unless we…not unless getting him back wasn’t possible."

"Which it’s not," Buffy said quickly. "We’re getting him back, Kelly. Willow’s on her way. This is what Willow does. She wasn’t even a fledgling witch when she reensouled Angel." She offered her childe a few pats on the back. "We’re getting him back."

A new voice entered the conversation. "But won’t Zack know that?" Rosalie didn’t even pause; she headed directly for Cordelia, assuming the seat beside her. "Won’t he know that Willow’s out there and she has the power to put his soul back inside?"

Buffy had really hoped no one would make that observation with Kelly in the room.

"Yes," Kelly said quickly. "He’ll know. He’ll…oh God…" She turned to Buffy. "He’ll try to stop it, won’t he? He’ll try to kill her."

"Believe me," Buffy replied, "he won’t be successful. I’m not worried about Willow."

"But—"

"Wolfram and Hart," Cordelia said with a long sigh. Rosalie rested her head against her shoulder, and the older woman’s arm immediately went around her. "Wolfram and Hart have access to magicks Willow can’t comprehend."

"Willow tried to destroy the world once," Buffy retorted wryly.

"Only no…she didn’t."

All eyes fell on Wesley.

"She didn’t try to end the world, Buffy. That falls in line with the falsified memories implanted by Wolfram and Hart." He inhaled sharply. "Willow is still a powerful force with which to be reckoned, but Wolfram and Hart put the memory of her descent into evil in her…in all of us. Wolfram and Hart has the power to alter the fabric of something as personal as our…"

"Well, not once Willow puts mojo on us," Buffy retorted. "You don’t understand, Wes. I’ve seen her do things. Things no one can do…and these are things which took place after the fake memory thing. She might have been susceptible to that once, but the memory thing was done on us before she turned into a megawitch. Once she fixes it, it’ll be…it’ll be fine."

"That doesn’t mean they won’t attempt to hinder her arrival," Wesley reasoned. "I agree: once Willow arrives, she will be damn near impossible to counter, but there’s little she can do from afar. Wolfram and Hart will pull every dirty trick in the book to keep her from arriving. Until then, the best we can do is be careful." He nodded at Fred. "We’ll revoke Zack’s invitation…does Mrs. Morris know about her son?"

Buffy nodded.

"And the Kapowskis?"

Kelly shook her head. "No. But…" A small, foreign smile cracked her lips. "Chances are, they won’t even remember who I am, so it’s okay."

Wesley frowned.

"Bad family reunion," Buffy explained. "Okay. Wes, Fred…I’ll give you directions. Kelly, I want you to stay here with Cordy and the kids." She turned to Rosalie. "Rosie, can—"

"I’m staying with Cordy," Rosalie said firmly, snuggling into Cordelia’s side. "I’m not about to let…this is all happening because they need my unborn sister?" She hardened. "Well, they better be prepared to bulldoze this place, because the armies of Hell itself aren’t getting between me and Cordy. I’m not losing my mother. Not again."

The announcement was blunt and moving. From the look on Cordelia’s face, it was obvious Rosalie had never before referred to her as her mother.

"Oh sweetie…" the pregnant woman sniffed. "I love you."

Rosalie folded herself into Cordelia’s arms. "I love you, too."

Kelly burst into tears. "Oh God."

Buffy swallowed hard, her eyes stinging. It was damned difficult being the collected one when all she wanted to do was cry herself. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Rosalie…you’re here with your dad and…and Cordy. Gunn…" She turned to Wesley. "Gunn should go with you."

Wesley frowned. "Why?"

"Because, and no offense, he’s much, much stronger than you."

A small smile tickled the former Watcher’s lips. "No offense taken."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. Spike and I will head out on a daytime patrol."

There was a long pause. "You really think Zack will do something in broad daylight?" Cordelia whispered.

"That’s the problem," Buffy replied. "Soulless Zack and Zack are two different entities. We really don’t know what he’ll do."


	14. Chapter 14

There truly was no accounting for how he’d ended up here.

"I wouldn’t consider this a failing," Angelus cooed, his arms crossed, a tantalizing smirk playing his lips. His black eyes sparked shades of mirth which only furthered Zack’s righteous fury. "After all, I suppose you were warned."

Warned, yes. But not prepared. Not prepared to waltz back to Angelus and Darla’s little sex lair only to be strung up like a prized pig ready for the slaughter. His wrists were bound above his head, a pole lined his spine, and his clothing had been stripped. To say he hadn’t seen this coming would be one hell of an understatement; there was no way one could see this coming. The first few hours had been a breeze, but Zack was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was in a bind. He had yet to prove himself, and the few poorly thought-out insults pertaining to Angelus’s sexuality hadn’t helped matters at all.

"What gets me is this notion of yours that you can walk into my home, touch my things, and assume my position as the head of the family." Angelus perked a brow as though daring Zack to contradict his account of events. Zack wasn’t that foolish, though he had been three hours earlier. He was nothing if not a quick study. "You’re not even a member of my Order, boy. But you’d like to be…wouldn’t you?"

Zack’s bloodshot eyes widened. There was only one viable answer to that question. He felt his listless head bob up and down, every movement sending shards of pain down his spine.

"Well, first things first…" Angelus grinned and held up the gemstone he’d managed to pry from Zack’s bloodied fingers. "Everything that’s yours is mine. This little sunshine guard? Did you really think you could keep this from me?"

Zack’s jaw fell open and words scratched at his throat, but refused to form together in a cohesive sentence.

"Don’t be angry with yourself," Angelus instructed with a condescending nod. "Everyone thinks they can walk in here and just…have their run of things without adhering to family policy. But I’ve been around a lot longer than you, sonny. And no one gets into the Aurelian clan without earning it."

He paused. Zack croaked another miserable word, but again it sounded like nothing at all. Blood oozed through broken, black and purple skin. There wasn’t an inch of him that failed to ache.

"No," Angelus replied simply, as though Zack had formed a coherent sentence and made a valid point. "Spike made his own clan when he and the Slayer decided to…and I really hate this word…mate. He ceased being an Aurelian that day. You’re one of his, not one of mine. Not until you’ve earned it. And you want to earn it, don’t you?"

There was only one answer. Zack nodded hard.

"Good. Then don’t go anywhere." The cruel twist of Angelus’s lips belied the irony of his words. "‘Cause first…we got to get you out of his influence. What do you say, Darla?" He stepped aside, bringing the seductive blonde into view. "Torture it out of him?"

"Oh, sweetie," Darla replied with a soft, misleading smile. "You know I never interfere with your work."

Angelus turned back to Zack. "Like a good woman, she always knows when to stand back. Now…what do you say…" He strolled leisurely toward the fireplace which offset the room with its warmth. "Hot poker? Or icepick? One or the other."

Zack made no move to respond.

"Oh dear," came the disappointed tsk. "I suppose that means I’ll have to choose for you."

*~*~*

Buffy wasn’t surprised Spike hadn’t retreated downstairs. They hadn’t had much chance to speak at all, let alone discuss the events that had spanned the past twelve hours. In the face of overwhelming odds, they had, together, assumed leadership roles. Their own despair had to be placed aside for the better good. Kelly couldn’t see either one of them distraught, lest she become more unglued than she was already.

Spike’s emotions, over the years, had become enigmatic to anyone who wasn’t her. Her mate had previously been a walking mood-ring; one need only look into his eyes to detect what was on the horizon. It wasn’t so anymore. Larger issues were shaded and shoved behind a façade through which only Buffy could see. He and Zack could horse around and employ impossible schemes—schemes that truly only served to entertain them rather than reaching any concrete objective. They didn’t try to mask their activities, and when they lied it was with pride rather than fear of being caught.

But when it came to the big things, Spike was only open to her. He guarded himself when he thought it necessary, but one flicker of his eyes told her all she needed to know. Spike never hid from her. Never.

And right now, he had to protect himself. He had to protect his family. He had to protect the Order they had created together. He mustn’t let Kelly seem him weak, else she would completely fall apart. They were lucky to have kept her together as long as they had, and survey said they were nowhere near the end.

But Spike had a lot with which to contend as well. Though things between them had been wrought with tension over the past few days, there was no mistaking the fact that Zack Morris was his best friend. The ties between sire and childe were impossibly strong. Spike felt responsible for Zack; so responsible. For bringing him over, for the huge changes that their association had brought upon Zack and Kelly and their household, for everything. And though he hadn’t said as much, and though he likely hadn’t even felt as much, Buffy knew, somewhere beneath the surface, that his simple transference from Zack ‘Zangy’ Wright to Zack ‘Zangy’ Morris had him unnerved.

It implied they were interchangeable, when nothing was further from the truth. Both Zacks were infinitely important to them for reasons which couldn’t be compared because their roles were too different. Zack Wright had helped save her from Hell. Zack Morris had been there in the afterlife.

Spike stood beside the window in the first bedroom they had shared. Years had passed since she first awoke in that bed. Since she saw him sleeping beside her, and felt overwhelmed with warmth and love she didn’t understand. He had looked so troubled when he realized she was awake. He’d kissed her, stroked her hair, called for Cordelia when she experienced the first pangs of blood-hunger, and waited as she retreated downstairs to come to terms with what she was.

What she’d become.

This was the room where they’d first made love. Where she’d first awakened next to him. And no matter how much time had passed, it still felt very much like it belonged to them.

Her life had begun in here.

"Spike…"

A still beat, then he turned to face her. His eyes were weighted with remorse and worry, every inch of his body rigid. He held her gaze for a second before a sob erupted from his lips. Buffy soared across the room and caught him in her arms as he collapsed. His head fell to her breast, his arms wrapping around her middle. And then she held as he finally released himself, harsh cries tore through his tired body.

How long she held him, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter. With as much as he’d given her over the years, the many times he’d held her as she wept, she owed him the world.

"It’s my fault," Spike whispered raucously against her throat. "I was too…I din’t…"

Buffy shook her head, running her fingers through his hair. "Shhh," she murmured soothingly. "Sweetie, it wasn’t you. It wasn’t."

"The things…I said things…"

She brushed her lips across his brow. "It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you."

"I made him feel like he din’t matter to me."

"We’ve all been on edge," she replied. "Everything’s been so crazy. Zack knows you love him. He was going through something hard…and we were, too. We just clashed. It wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t ours. It just happened."

"I accused him—"

"You were right to be suspicious. And you didn’t follow him. You did what he asked. You trusted him." Buffy released a heavy breath, resting her back against the bed and carrying him with her. "None of us have been the best versions of ourselves. What happened to Zack wasn’t you. We weren’t prepared."

"Buffy—"

"You can’t keep doing this."

Spike blinked dazedly. "Doin’ what?"

"Thinking you can control everything. Thinking everything is your fault when it goes wrong." Buffy kissed his brow again, running her fingers down her the length of his arm. "You did the same when Angelus took me, remember?"

He shifted. "But that was—"

"No."

"Darla…she came by my place. She…she told me…"

"Spike, how many times have we had this argument?"

There was a significant pause; he shook his head. "Well, we haven’t had it since Hell Incorporated played the rearrange with our memories, right? So I got a few years to—"

"The point is you’re not all-knowing and all-powerful, my love. There is no way you could have seen this coming. No way any of us could have seen this coming." She massaged his scalp tenderly. "Things happen. Things we can’t stop or explain. This is one of them."

"I don’t know what to tell her."

"You’ve done so well."

"I just…I keep thinkin’…what he could’ve…’f it’d been anyone but me down there…"

"But it wasn’t."

"Kelly din’t know what was wrong till William—"

"But she knew something was wrong, sweetie. She knew."

"An’ she keeps lookin’ to me for answers I don’ have. She wonders what happens if we can’t get it back. If he’s…an’ I don’ know what to bloody tell her because I can’t think that sodding far ahead." Spike shook his head hard. "I don’ know…an’…"

Buffy gently played with the wisps of hair at the back of his neck, leaning inward to caress his lips with a tender kiss. "You don’t have to know."

"But she looks at me—"

"Kelly’s just in a state of panic. She wants any answers. You need to be strong for her, yes, but not on this side of the door." She cupped his chin and forced his gaze upward. "You don’t need to be strong for me."

The lightning behind his eyes nearly unmade her. "I love you," he whispered fervently.

Warmth kissed her heart. "I love you, too."

He smiled softly, nodding as he calmed. It took a few minutes to gather his bearings, but with the help of Buffy’s soft caresses and her low murmurs of encouragement, he managed to still enough for the storm to clear. "Right," he said. "Right."

"Wesley, Fred, and Gunn are heading to Zack’s mom’s to do the deinvite spell," Buffy informed him. "Then they’re going to Kelly’s."

"You put this together?"

"I’m a tough cookie."

Spike smiled. "That you are, luv. We’re all gonna owe you one helluva party when this is all over."

"I’ll take it."

"An’ Zangy?"

"Still asleep, though I figure he’ll be waking up any minute now."

He shook his head. "No…no, I mean…"

"Oh." A bashful smile tickled her lips. "Right. Ummm…well, he has the ring. You know, with the…the sunlight-blocker. We should patrol and make sure he’s not…making with the daytime monstrosity. But Will’s on her way."

"Willow?"

"Yeah. Our own soul-insurance policy."

"An’ we think Wolfram an’ Wankers will just allow her to waltz into the city?"

"We’re being cautiously optimistic right now," Buffy agreed. "But yeah…we need to be prepared." A pause. "We…we also need to be prepared for what might happen with Zack. We have absolutely no idea what he’s going to be like. I mean…last night was…but he’s…"

"He’s been to dark places without needin’ the help of a missing conscience."

"That’s what worries me. He’s going to be unpredictable."

Spike nodded and forced himself to his feet. "We better head out, then," he said. "If I learned anythin’ with Peaches, whatever happens between now an’ the resoul’s gonna be one bitch of a migraine to work through when he gets back."

She snorted. "You have no idea."

"Buffy…"

She glanced up.

"Thank you." Spike smiled somewhat shyly. "I din’t mean to…I thought I had it…"

"Honey, if you hadn’t…he’s your best friend…well, your best _not me_ friend." Buffy smiled softly. "No matter what’s happened recently, nothing can…if you felt nothing, you wouldn’t be the man I love."

"An’ we couldn’t have that. Just…" His voice lowered conspiratorially. "Don’ tell that git once he gets back that I actually, y’know, care."

Buffy’s smile broadened. The façade was still there, but she saw the sparks of his true self behind his eyes. "Yeah, but then I couldn’t lord it over you."

"Slayer…"

"Spike cares about Zack," she singsonged. She chirped a giggle at his expense, stealing a delicious kiss from his lips as she dragged him from the room. "Come on, sweetie."

"I’m gonna get you a muzzle."

"Mmm. Kinky."

Spike glared at her a few ineffectual seconds before giving way to a grin. "Thank you," he whispered again. "I’d be bloody lost without you. I don’ know what I’d…I just can’t without you."

His voice left her trembling. "That makes two of us."

*~*~*

Zack Wright awoke with a name on his lips. A name that surprised no one.

"Cordelia?"

Cordelia and Rosalie had retreated upstairs following Spike and Buffy’s departure on the promise that he wouldn’t be out too much longer. The pregnant woman had hoisted herself next to him, her hand over his, her thumb tenderly stroking his skin. Rosalie, in the meantime, had turned her attention to the television, seemingly determined to draw her mind away from the horrors of reality.

They’d been there all of five minutes when Wright stirred.

"I’m here, baby," Cordelia assured him, her eyes misting. "Right here."

"Dad!" Rosalie exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "Oh God, are you okay?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Should we get you something?"

"A glass of water?"

"A shot of whisky?"

Cordelia shot her surrogate daughter a surprised glance; Rosalie shrugged. "You were thinking it," she said.

And there was nothing to say in turn, as it couldn’t be denied. She just preferred the teen not to know such things.

A small smile played across Wright’s lips. "I’m fine," he assured them, though the grimace that twisted his face the next second told otherwise. "On second thought, an aspirin might not hurt."

Rosalie leapt to her feet before Cordelia could budge, which was likely for the best as the sixteen year-old could make the trip and back before the older woman even managed to get off the bed.

"Are you all right?" Cordelia asked, brushing his hair from his forehead. "You were out for a while."

"What’d they hit me with?"

"Who?"

Wright shrugged and coughed, smiling at Rosalie when she returned dutifully with two pills and a bottle of water. "I just…I went to see him…to kill him…" He blinked. "I didn’t kill him, did I?"

"Derek?"

He nodded.

Cordelia smiled and kissed him softly. "You were very brave."

"I’m always brave. I didn’t kill him." Wright frowned, wincing as he sat up. "Oh…okay. Gotta go."

Cordelia’s eyes widened in alarm. "What?"

"I didn’t kill him…gotta get the job done."

"Zack—"

"Won’t let you die. Gonna kill him."

"You’re not fully recovered!"

Wright turned and scowled at her. "Fine. How about I just sit here and wait for the next thing to happen? Zack…he helped me. He…" He paused, remembering something. "God, if he hadn’t been there, I would’ve died, wouldn’t I?"

Rosalie and Cordelia exchanged an uneasy glance. "Yeah," his daughter confirmed. "He went there…he saved your life."

"Oh God. And after I beat the shit outta him."

"Zack…"

"That’s…wow." He blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "This is…wow. I have a brother. And he—"

"Dad…"

The women exchanged another glance.

"What?" he asked.

*~*~*

Willow glanced with a sigh to her buzzing cell phone. It was the third time in ten minutes Josh Lyman had tried to reach her, likely as a last resort for not being able to coax Sam into taking his calls.

A long sigh rushed through her teeth. There was no avoiding this. No avoiding it whatsoever. Josh would continue phoning her like mad until she picked up. If she refused, he would try Sam again and repeat the cycle until one of them caved.

He wasn’t going to be happy when he learned of the recent developments, but there was no sense in hiding.

Or so she told herself.

Willow shrank in the passenger seat of the rental car, flipped her cell phone open, and winced in preparation. "Hello?"

"Well, it’s about damn time!"

"Hello to you, too, Josh."

"What the hell is going on over there?"

Willow cast a quick glance to the convenient store into which Sam had disappeared a few minutes before. He looked to be engaged in a lengthy conversation with the greasy, overweight giant behind the wrap desk. "Well, we’re at a gas station right now."

"What the hell are you doing at a gas station?"

"Getting gas."

"Willow—"

"I got a call from Buffy this morning."

The lengthy pause was all the warning she needed. "I don’t suppose she was calling to tell you that everything was, oh say, normal?"

"Zack’s lost his soul and tried to murder his son last night. I’m heading to LA to make sure that doesn’t happen again."

Another lengthy pause. "And where is Sam?"

"Paying for gas and getting drinks."

"He’s going with you?!"

"And see, this is why I didn’t want to say anything."

"Willow, he can’t go with you! I don’t want him seeing this stuff!"

The redhead frowned. "And what stuff is that?"

"The freak stuff you do with your freak friends! That man is going to be the President. He can’t—"

"Josh, I’m sorry, but does your heart pump actual blood or are you an unfeeling anamatron?"

"What the hell?" he roared.

"Zack has _lost his soul_. He tried to kill _his own son_. This is bigger than the run for the _President_!"

Flustered, Josh screamed, "You didn’t have to take him with you!"

"Yes I did!"

"Why?"

"Because he thought I didn’t like him. He thought I was using Buffy as an excuse to get away from him."

"And you didn’t let him _believe_ that?"

"I _like_ Sam. He’s sweet and smart and quirky and he gets me!" She hazarded another glance to the store. Sam had yet to emerge. "He hinted that he might have already fallen for me this morning."

"When?"

"When he said he’d fallen for me."

"Oh God," Josh moaned. "This is a nightmare."

"Hey!"

"Willow, what did I tell you when you left here?"

She felt like a child being reprimanded. "Not to let him find out about my world."

"And where are you taking him?"

"My world."

"Willow—"

"He would’ve believed I didn’t like him!"

"And you couldn’t have let him, I don’t know, _believe_ it?"

"Josh Lyman, I owe you zilch. You got me?" She tossed Sam another glance. He’d finally ended his conversation with Tubbo and was starting back to the car. "I’m sorry if my falling in love with Sam didn’t show up on your radar, but it’s there. It’s there, it’s real, and I’m taking him to the world where, by the way, you live, too. And I’m not doing it for kicks; I’m doing it to help my friends. This wasn’t planned—it’s an emergency. So stop acting like I set out to sabotage your vision of America and start prioritizing over the things that are actually important."

She snapped the phone shut before he could respond, just in time to send Sam a smile. "You were in there for a while," she observed.

Sam nodded, handing her a slushi. "He recognized me."

"He did?"

"And apparently he didn’t vote for me."

"Oh."

"And he doesn’t plan to next time around."

Willow frowned. "Why?"

"Because I help gay babies get abortions." Sam winced. "I actually think that’s the line of reasoning he used. Anyway, who were you talking to?"

"Josh."

"You picked up?"

"He kept calling."

"He’s not happy about this, is he?"

Willow shook her head. "Not in the slightest."

"Is there something about you I don’t know that I should?"

"Many, many things," she answered honestly.

"Are you a Republican?"

"God no!"

"Are you wanted for any capital offenses?"

"Not that I’m aware of."

"Do you want to remove my boxers with your teeth again anytime soon?"

Heat flushed her face. "Very much."

Sam smiled happily. "Well, then, the rest I’ll just have to take in stride.

Willow returned his smile with only half the enthusiasm, bracing herself when the car started up again. In truth, she’d dreaded nothing like she was dreading the next few days. She had no idea how to begin to explain what Sam would see in a manner that sounded at least halfway sane. She had no idea how to protect him from the world’s more unseemly truths while simultaneously doing her best to keep everything under control once she made it to the Hyperion.

There was no rational explanation for what Sam would see.

And if he still managed to love her afterwards without the need for psychiatric treatment and anti-depressants, maybe, just maybe, he was the one.

*~*~*

There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t hurt.

When the torture had ended, Zack truly didn’t know. His muscles were bruised. He was bleeding from the inside out. His face likely resembled a work of Picasso’s. He felt thoroughly and utterly defeated. Angelus might as well have ripped out his skeleton and mounted the bones. There was nothing left of him.

Absolutely nothing.

"My, my, my, my, what a mess."

The voice fell over him like a warm blanket. And then suddenly, a cool, soothing hand wrapped around his naked cock.

"He’s an artist, isn’t he?" Darla cooed, stroking him almost absently. "He really needs to weed out the loyal ones from the ones who would use and abuse. But you wouldn’t abuse us, would you, Zack?"

Inexplicably, he felt himself growing hard against her. "Mmm…"

"You’ve been such a good boy…"

He thrust his hips hard against her. "More."

"More?" Suddenly she was pressed against him, skin to skin, her nipples rubbing his chest, her pussy hovering over his erection. "You think you can fuck me like this?"

Zack shuddered, rolling himself upwards. "Darla…"

"You think you can make me scream while you’re all tied up?"

He paused, then forced his eyes open. It amazed him in the wake of all the pain that he’d endured over the past several hours that his body was up for anything, but there was nothing but lust now. Pure, animal lust. If he didn’t get his dick in her, he was going to explode in a flurry of dust, and not the kind from which one recovered.

"I’ll prove it to you," he growled, forcing his head up so he could capture her lips in a bloody, violent kiss.

And apparently that was all the coaxing Darla needed. She purred in delight and impaled herself on his cock.

"I’m going to hold you to that," she gasped, tossing her hair back. "I mean it. Make me scream, and I’ll let you go."

"You let me go, and you’ll really scream," Zack parried, pistoning himself deep within her. She was fucking marvelous. Pleasure from pain; he’d never understood it. Not until this moment. Not until Darla was astride him.

"Fuck her out of me," he growled. "Fuck the taste of her out of me."

"Ah, ah, ah. We mustn’t get ahead of ourselves."

"I want her gone." Any memory of the tender passion he’d once shared with Kelly was poison to him now. Too soft. Too loving. Too human. "Fuck her out of me."

"Rules are rules, precious," Darla retorted, bracing her hands on his shoulders as her body began bucking against his in earnest. "I scream, then you scream. After that…we’ll see."

Zack grinned wickedly, thrusting as hard as his bindings allowed. This was a game he already loved.

And they’d only just begun.


	15. Chapter 15

Josh wasn’t an unfeeling anamatron, but he totally got why some people thought otherwise. In fact, the news concerning Zack had been a complete shock and his immediate concern had already turned from prepping Sam for the presidency to making sure his best friend remained alive to watch the next presidential election.

" _Zack has lost his soul. He tried to kill his own son. This is bigger than the run for the President!_ "

Josh shakily ran a hand through his hair. His friend Zack had just lost his soul and tried to kill his son. William. The little tyke that Josh had played Tonka trucks with just about a month ago.

Donna and Josh had long ago realized that it was strange, but they were attached to the crazy bunch of vampires that invaded their lives a decade ago. After the incident in England, a special bond had developed between them and they had made it a point to get together and visit every few months.

Despite what he might say, Josh enjoyed the antics of Spike and Zack—when they weren’t directed toward the Chief of Staff. And he knew that Donna loved Buffy and Kelly—they gave her a chance to relax and feel her age.

They had discussed in private the implication of having the undead so close to their lives.

_"There is a lot of interesting information concerning vampires."_

_"Donna, please tell me that you didn’t waltz into the Library of Congress and ask for some interesting information on vampires."_

_She rolled over to look at him. "No, I just decided to log on to the White House mainframe and do a search of all the classified intelligence."_

_"Donna—"_

_"I borrowed a book from Kelly," she said with an eye roll._

_"Okay," he accepted._

_"Really interesting information."_

_"Well, why don’t you just keep it to yourself so that I can consult you in times of emergency."_

_"You wouldn’t like to know about the people you drive two hours to see every other month."_

_He paused for a second. "Not really."_

_She shrugged. "Fine, but someday you’re gonna wish you’d listened to me on this Saturday morning."_

With a sigh, he got up from his desk and headed to the door.

"Josh? Harrison would like to talk to you about HR409," Davis announced as soon as he stepped from his office.

"In a minute."

"You also need to return a call to State concerning the President’s trip to Finland next week."

Josh kept walking. "Not now."

"Where are you going?" Davis asked with a tilt of the head.

"The East Wing."

*~*~*

Josh walked into the middle of a private meeting between the First Lady and her Chief of Staff. "Sorry, Josh, but I think we forgot to invite you," Helen remarked with a smile.

Donna gave him a look. "We’re going ahead with the Darfur summit despite reservations from the D.O.D. We know that it isn’t a security issue because Holland at State has already told us so. It’s a logistics issue."

Helen continued. "People are dying. The American people need to take notice and I plan on doing that when I announce that I plan to host the summit."

Josh looked more distraught than ever. "I could possibly care less." His eyes turned to Donna. "I need to talk to you. _Now_."

"Josh—"

"Seriously, ma’am," he spared a brief cordial glance to the First Lady. "I don’t care. I like Africa. They shouldn’t die. Donna, we need to talk _now_."

The women shared a look before Donna rose from her chair and followed Josh into the hallway. "What?" she spat.

"Not here." He began desperately searching for a more secure location for their conversation.

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Well the First Lady’s office is pretty secure, but since you just kicked us out of there—"

"Donna, please." His eyes showed the emotion he hadn’t yet expressed and she promptly quieted down her banter.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the nearest door, which happened to be a maintenance closet. Neither one noticed the curious looks from three Secret Service agents. "What?" Donna asked when the door closed behind them and they were scrunched together in the dark.

He didn’t quite know how to begin. "Can you give me some information on vampires now?"

Donna blinked. "What’s going on, Josh?"

"Seriously!" He cried as his voice shot up an octave. "Vampire information. From that book."

"Umm…" Donna began racking her brain for the trivia she had learned. "Well the Order of Aurelius is the most prestigious in modern existence and it happens to be the line that Spike is descendent from. Umm…the most prestigious action for a vampire to take is to win against a Slayer in combat. Slayer’s blood is very special for many reasons and is said to be the biggest high for a vampire."

"Souls! I need soul information!"

Donna paused, but didn’t stop. "Vampires don’t have souls. There have only been four in recoded history. Angelus was implanted with one in the 19th century by a group of gypsies. Buffy kept hers when she died because she was a Slayer and the PTB decided it wouldn’t be fair for someone of her strength to be soulless. Willow gave Zack and Kelly’s theirs when they were turned. Umm…that’s it."

"Willow gives out souls?"

"Yes."

"So she can put it back in if it’s lost?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, God." His panic was nowhere near dissipating with her information. "What if she can’t find it? Can she just conjure new ones at random? How do they lose them in the first place?"

"I don’t know. Kelly just gave me one book, not Giles’s entire library."

"Willow has to stop him, but how can she do that and keep Sam safe?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Zack."

"Zack lost his soul?"

He nodded in the dark. "Willow just told me she’s on her way to L.A. to stop him from trying to kill William again."

Her hand instinctively came up to her mouth. "Oh God!"

He admitted reality for the first time. "I know."

"Well, we have to go!"

Josh blinked. "What the hell can we do at this point?"

"We…we have to go and…we know more about this stuff than the average person!"

"So we know better than the average person that we need to stay the hell away from this and leave it to the professional freaks to handle!"

"Josh…we have to go and help!"

"Again, how the _hell_ are we going to do that?"

"We’ve had previous experience with apocalypses."

"We’ve been there…in fact that may be an indication that we should stay away. Maybe we enable apocalyptic behavior." 

"I’m going," Donna said simply.

"You’re insane!" He said, grabbing her hand as she reached for the door.

"Josh! Kelly needs us! Spike and Buffy need us! Zack needs us and Willow needs us!"

"No. They need a soul. Preferably implanted in Zack. Can you do that?"

"I’m going."

He knew there was absolutely no way he could stop her now. And a secret part of him had wanted to hop on the next flight west in order to offer any help possible from the moment he got off the phone with Willow. "Maybe we can get some federal agents in there to hold him down while Willow performs the spell or something."

Donna’s eyes lit up. "We’re going," she said and reached for the doorknob.

Josh didn’t stop her this time.

*~*~*

Melody was still in her pajamas as she came to the door. It was barely seven in the morning, but she had just received a call from Buffy explaining three people were about to show up on her doorstep and she needed to let the inside to explain a terrible situation. She had asked for Zack or Kelly, but neither had been available to talk.

Derek’s behavior had surprised her. As soon as she was off the phone he began demanding to know the conversation. Then, instead of going back to bed like he did on his usual day off, he immediately began getting dressed. She thought she saw him grab the suitcase as she made her way to the stairs.

"Mrs. Morris?" Wesley asked as the door opened.

"Yes, I’m Melody," she said as she opened the door fully and escorted them inside. "You must be Wesley, Fred and Gunn. Buffy told me you were arriving, but she didn’t explain anymore."

Fred stepped forward as the feminine voice of reason. "I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but something horrible has happened to Zack."

Melody gasped and brought a hand to her heart. "He isn’t dead is he?" She paused. "Again."

"No," Wesley said as he came forward to take his fiancée’s hand. "But I’m afraid what has happened could be considerably worse than death, Melody."

They were familiar enough with the human mind, to know what would happen next. Gunn was there to catch her as her legs gave way and he carried her to the sofa. 

"What?" she whispered. "What’s happened?"

Wesley took a breath. "He’s lost his soul."

Her eyes went wide. "His soul?" She looked to each of them for comfort, but found it lacking on all three accounts. "But he’s a vampire. Without a soul, he’s—"

"We’re doing the best we can," Fred assured with a weak smile. "Someone is on their way that will make everything all right."

At that moment attention shifted to the clamor at the top of the stairs. Derek was struggling to get two oversized and overstuffed suitcases down the stairs.

The new arrivals gaped up in shock. They were now facing the man. The man who essentially had caused all of this pain and terror they were now living. This man who had inspired years of turmoil due to his evil desire to have success at any costs. This man who looked so much like their unconscious companion and his soulless brother.

"Damn," Gunn whispered. "They definitely get the looks from Daddy."

"What are you doing, Derek?" Melody asked.

"I…we have to get out of here!"

"Did you just hear what they were coming to say? That—"

"Of course!" he said hastily. "Zack lost his soul. He’s out of control! We need to leave!"

"I need to leave?" Melody looked back to the trio.

"Not necessarily," Wesley assured. "You are in danger, but we were going to perform a spell to make it impossible for him it to enter your home."

"See, Derek," Melody said in a voice of reason. "We don’t have to go anywhere."

"Yes! We do!" He was dragging the bags down the stairs. "We can’t stay in here forever! He’ll be there when we come out!"

"Afraid of something, Derek?" Wesley was unable to resist the moment. "Are you really as afraid of Zack Morris coming after you as you are of Zack Wright now that we know where you live?"

"Who’s Zack Wright?" Melody turned to Fred.

"Are you threatening me?" Derek accused.

An evil smirk came across him as he stood up to face him. "As a matter of fact, I am."

"I’m…confused."

"There’s a little more to the story that we haven’t told you," Gunn stated. "Your husband here is a little more responsible for things than he wants you to know."

"What are they saying?" Melody pleaded as she looked to her husband.

Derek was still focused on Wesley. "Look…I think the situation has proved to be beyond the control of the likes of you."

"You have no idea who _the likes of us_ are, so trust me when I say you are grossly incorrect."

Melody looked to Gunn and Fred. "Please tell me what’s happening."

Fred shared a brief glance with Gunn before deciding that honesty was the best policy. "Your husband is working with an evil law firm."

"Wolfram and Hart?" Melody asked.

"You know them?" Gunn was shocked.

"Well…yeah. We’ve gone to their holiday parties for years."

"Well, your husband has done some awful things to guarantee financial success through them."

"He took Zack’s soul?"

Fred paused. "Yes. He’s also tried to kill—"

_"STOP!"_

Derek was lunging directly toward Fred at this point. Wesley intervened by tackling him. Both bodies crashed against the sofa table before hitting the floor.

"Oh God," Melody gasped as they all stood up to run over to the scuffle.

"I swear to God I will kill you all," Derek growled as he and Wesley continued their struggle.

Melody needed answers. Now. Dark thoughts she had kept at the back of her mind were now bubbling to the surface. "He’s killed people."

Gunn decided that this man deserved to be exposed right now. "Yeah. He tried to kill Kelly and the kids after he tried to kill Zack and his wife Amber."

"Zack and Amber?"

"Zack Wright," Fred said as Wesley gained complete control of the situation and held Derek in a headlock. "Derek’s illegitimate son."

Melody’s eyes went dark as her husband was yanked to his feet by his neck. "You said you never—"

"It didn’t mean anything!" Derek said in cold sincerity. "I mean it! I loved you! Always you! I just…she was just…I needed his blood was all."

"What a prize," Gunn muttered.

"You did this all…you caused all this pain…"

"For you! For us!" Derek pleaded with his wife as Wesley tightened his chokehold. "So we could have a family and happiness."

Melody didn’t know what to say. All she knew was that the man she had spent the past thirty years with was a lie. He was evil wrapped in a façade of a man. She took a brief look at the bag he had packed for her that was lying at the base of the stairs. "Can I come with you?"

"Yes," Derek sighed. "Yes. We can get far far away from all of—"

"Not you," she snapped. She turned her gaze to Wesley. "Please, may I come with you. To where Kelly and my grandchildren are?"

"Yes," Wes said without hesitation. The main reason was because he knew that this woman loved her grandchildren and daughter-in-law and deserved to be with them. Also, he enjoyed the pain this abandonment had on the man he was determined to kill.

"Melody—" Derek cried before Wesley tightened his grip.

Calmly the former Watcher and rogue demon hunter looked to his friend and fiancée. "You should get Melody out and to the car now."

Even Melody knew what that meant, but she was still too deep in processing all of the horrible information she had just learned. She merely grabbed her suitcase and turned toward the door. The house was soon empty of everyone except Derek and Wesley.

"I’m ending this now," Wesley declared in a low voice. "I’m going to end this for everyone you’ve hurt over the years. I’m going to end this for those you have killed and those who cheated you of your sadistic pleasure. We’ll get Zack back and you’ll never get a chance to touch a hair on Cordelia’s head."

Derek gave a chuckle. "I told you that this was beyond your control."

With that, the front door burst open.

*~*~*

"Did you notice you never told me what your friend’s big problem was?"

Willow was switching her eye contact between the clock and the ever-increasing traffic. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did notice."

"Well," Sam kept his eyes on the road as he continued to maneuver through the endless stream of cars. "I was thinking that you might possibly want to discuss her problem."

"Not really."

"I’m a really good problem solver."

"Sam—"

"Seriously, I’ve solved a lot of problems in my day."

"Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t know what to do about this one."

"Betcha I’d surprise you."

"Betcha I’d surprise you."

"C’mon!" Sam whined. "We’ve been driving for nearly two hours now and its been three since the call. You haven’t said any more than that your friend Buffy is experiencing a crisis and that you have to go help her immediately. Aside from the mention of someone or something named Spike, I know absolutely nothing about your friends and their problem."

"Buffy’s real name is Elizabeth."

"Willow."

"And Spike dyes his hair."

"Seriously! Let me help you!"

"Trust me, Sam. There is little to nothing you could possibly do to help except to be the remarkably wonderful man and comfort that you are."

Sam sighed in defeat. "Well, at least traffic is starting to pick up speed. Hopefully we’ll be able to get inside L.A. before the rush hour traffic gets too heavy."

"Yeah."

As the car crept up to the speed limit, Sam tried once more in vain. "I am an expert problem solver, though."

"Sam."

The intensity of the crash caught them both so off-guard that neither had any time to react.

*~*~*

"Nicholas?"

He looked up from his reading. "Yes, sir."

"Do you have a moment?"

"Yes, sir." He took off his glasses and set them on his desk.

"Nicholas, I just came from an emergency meeting of the Supreme Council and there are a few things I feel we need to address with you."

"Yes, sir."

"There is a situation occurring as we speak in California and we believe that it is going to end worse than previously expected."

"The situation with Wolfram and Hart?"

The elder man was unprepared for Nicholas to be as informed as he already was. "Be it as it may, Faith is now leaving with Rupert to confront the situation."

"I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not exactly sure why—"

The elder man tossed two manila folders on to Nicholas’s desk. "The Council has determined that these two potentials are most likely to receive the Call."

"Oh."

"Nicholas. You are definitely the youngest candidate we had in line for this position, but the Council believes that you are both the most mentally and…physically prepared for the job."

He had always hoped that he would be given this job, but assumed he would be asked to remain in England for most of his career. "I’m honored, sir."

"As recent Watchers have produced," the elder man looked almost disgusted. "Giles and Pryce have taken the duty off from its original path. We hope that you will be able to give the Watcher position back the prestige and respect in which it so richly deserves."

"Yes, sir," Nicholas replied in as solemn a tone as the previous speech.

"Good," the elder man offered a weak smile. "Now then. The two potentials are in two very different locations as their files will show."

Nicholas opened the first manila folder. "Argentina."

"Yes, she has shown remarkable talent though she has not yet been introduced to our world."

"And the other?"

"Ironically, she has already had considerable training. As far as our intelligence shows it won’t be her skills that will need refining as much as her attitude and discipline."

Nicholas tried to smile. "Well, I’m always up for a challenge."

"Good."

And in an instant Nicholas was left alone to process his new status within the Watcher’s Council.

*~*~*

To his credit, Wesley didn’t even flinch. It’d been a while since he’d come face-to-face with Angelus, and while such meetings were not ones he anticipated, it was a foolish gamble to assume the most notorious vampire in the history books would remain out of sight during an apocalypse.

He didn’t understand, however, what Angelus was doing in the Morris household. Then again, understanding wasn’t important. Saving his arse was.

"Kill him!" Derek squealed. "Kill him!"

Angelus didn’t acknowledge the pitiful man on the ground one way or another. His eyes never left Wesley’s. "Hello, Wes."

The former Watcher was nothing if not polite. "Angelus," he returned, inclining his head ever-so slightly. "Can’t say I expected you to show up."

"Ah well, I got a new toy I was dying to play with." He held up a hand. "Tried the Hyperion, but damn, if you guys aren’t ever on the up with that annoying anti-vamp technology." He glanced to Derek and grinned. "Not a problem I faced here, happy to say. Derek was forced to give me and Darla infinite access to his house in case his contract fell through…weren’t you, Derek?"

"What are you standing there for?!" the pitiful man screamed. "Kill him!"

"Shut up," Angelus snapped. "I’m not on your payroll, Morris. Point of fact, I might be doing you a favor if I snapped your throat now. With the way your luck’s running, it’d be kinder than what Wolfram and Hart has planned."

Derek shook his head. "You wouldn’t dare."

"Oh, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I dare?" Angelus glanced to the former Watcher. "I think our friend thinks I’d dare."

"I do," Wesley agreed. "You don’t know Angelus. He’s a tad unpredictable."

"But you’re not, are you, Wes?" A slow grin spread across the vampire’s face as he stepped forward. "You’re sickeningly predictable. Come to protect those too dumb to protect themselves. How chivalrous."

"I do what I can."

"It’s been a while since I left anyone a body memo."

A muscle in Wesley’s jaw ticked. "You’re going to have to wait a little longer."

"Oh? And why is that?"

The answer came in form of a crossbow. The crack of shattered bone spliced through the air, coinciding with Angelus’s collapse. Fred stood in the doorway, resolution hardened on her face, the weapon in her arms nearly twice the size of her small body. "RE: above," she said coldly, "see shoulder."

Wesley flashed her a dazzling smile. "Your timing, my dear, is impeccable." He delivered a swift kick to Derek’s head, but couldn’t waste further time. If he paused to end the bastard’s life as he’d desired, Angelus would recover. They couldn’t afford a confrontation with him. Not now. He might like to talk, but when he put action behind his words, there was little they could do to stop him.

"This isn’t over," Angelus growled, rising to his feet. "And why do people keep stabbing me?"

Wesley didn’t pause. He seized Fred’s hand and bolted out the door.

*~*~*

Josh couldn’t hope to hide his suspicion. The first thing Donna had done upon entering his apartment was not dive for the drawer where she kept most of her things. He’d imagined a frantic packing, tossing everything from her toothbrush to the blender into a suitcase on the off-chance that Smoothies paved the way to soul restoration. She defied expectation by flipping open her cell phone and hitting number three on her speed-dial.

"Who’s number one?" he asked dumbly, feeling like a kid on the wrong side of a joke.

Donna didn’t look at him. "You."

"Number two?"

"Helen Santos."

"You’re not calling the President, are you?"

"Three is…" She held up a hand, signifying the call had connected. "Mr. Giles, it’s Donna Moss from…yes. Yes, Josh told me everything. We’re…no, you don’t understand. Our friend Sam Seaborn is with Willow and…okay. Okay. Oh…okay. Oh no. Oh God, they…yes, I understand. I’m calling to see if you could…" She paused, nodding to whatever the decidedly British voice on the other end was saying. "This is an emergency, isn’t it?"

"What’s he saying?" Josh whispered loudly.

Donna scowled at him and waved a hand. "I understand," she said again. "Well, this method would be much quicker than any of the alternatives, wouldn’t it? Okay. Thank you. _Thank you_ , Mr. Giles. I…yes. We’re ready."

"We’re ready?" Josh asked.

She nodded, though whether to him or Giles, she had no idea. In a blink, her hand was wrapped around his wrist, then she shoved something random between them. A table clock. She forcibly took his hand and placed it on the clock in question, then took the other side so it was dangling between them.

Donna had officially gone insane.

Josh blinked. "Uhhh…"

Still ignoring him, Donna said, "Okay. Go."

The room went white the next second, and then Josh was falling away.

*~*~*

They fell into pace side-by-side, not holding hands, but their arms did brush with every step. It was that sort of closeness that had kept them grounded so long—the ability to be intimate without getting naked. Merely walking without sharing purposeful or meaningful touches kept them so finely in tune with each other.

"I don’t think there’s any point in hitting the cemeteries," Buffy said. "Zack would be the only demon out right now—in the open, and not in the scummy underground. I doubt he’d use his ring to traipse around graveyards."

"Doesn’ figure to be a good idea…guessin’ where the git might try an’ cause the most damage," Spike observed. "If the Watcher an’ chums are hittin’ his mum’s an’ Kelly’s folks…"

"He might try a mall or something. Maybe a school-ground. Something really terrible to get our attention." Buffy’s nose wrinkled, her eyes dropping to her hands. "Ugh. And this is why I very rarely use this stupid ring."

Spike blinked. "Pet?"

"Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to have it just in case, but…" She flexed her arms. "I need to wear sleeves or something. I’m all pasty. It’s not natural."

"We’re not exactly natural," he pointed out dryly.

"Yeah, well, vamps should avoid sunlight for a reason."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, stuff it. You’re a bloody knock-out." He tossed her a small grin, unable to keep from wrapping an arm around her and squeezing her tenderly into his side. "Way I figure it," he continued, "there’s one ring between the three of them, right? Zangy had it last, but if Peaches ever cottoned onto the fact that there’s an anti-dust gem in vicinity…"

The proverbial color drained from Buffy’s face. "Oh my God."

"Right."

"Zack’s one thing…he’s careless and sloppy and way over-confident…" She shivered. "Angelus…"

"Is just one of those, an’ it doesn’t bode well for us."

A lump the size of Canada swelled in Buffy’s throat. "So what do you suggest?" she asked. "We don’t know that Angelus has it…we don’t know that he doesn’t, but survey says if he knows it exists, he’ll have chopped Zack’s hand off to get to it."

"There’s not a whole bloody lot we can do, luv," Spike replied. "‘Cept use our daylight advantage to find where the lot of them are holed up."

"You think we can—"

"I think you an’ I could prob’ly take care of business on our own," he said. "But it’s not a good idea…’specially with Zangy in the mix. One of us might get too…into the moment, ‘f you catch my drift."

"Ashes to ashes thing, you mean."

"Right."

Buffy exhaled slowly. "So…we find where the vamps are staying, then come back with reinforcements?"

"Sounds about right."

"Except that more people in the fray means more stakes means more possibility for Zack to meet an untimely dusty ending."

Spike’s brows perked. "If you an’ I aren’t focused on stayin’ alive so much as keepin’ others alive, it’ll be easier to make sure no one gets trigger happy. Zang—Wright can handle himself just fine, an’ my money’s on the Bi—on Rosalie—’f she an’ Darla go head-to-head. We also have Charlie an’ Wes, not to mention…"

Buffy pursed her lips and nodded. "Kelly."

"Right."

"Do you think she’ll be up to it?"

"To keep Zangy from meetin’ his maker?"

"But after William…" Buffy shuddered. "You saw her last night, Spike…and this morning, she was…I’ve never seen her like that. And considering how often I have seen Kelly cry, that’s saying something."

"She’s in shock. Once that wears off, she’ll be ready to throw down for the good fight."

Buffy wished she could be as certain. "You think?"

"‘Course." Spike smiled. "She’s got you to look up to, hasn’t she?"

She met his eyes and grinned at him, warming under his compliment. They continued through the alleyways of Los Angeles, now with a set destination in mind. A companionable silence spread between them, the sort Buffy cherished for its calm simplicity. The past few days had rekindled a lifetime of memories Wolfram and Hart had attempted to suppress. Things she never wanted to forget. Things the world had attempted to deny her. Before Spike, there had never been such thing as a companionable silence. Not with the men she dated. Silence was always threatening to others, heavy in particular with Angel, but it didn’t frighten Spike. Spike merely walked beside her, occasionally stroking her wrist, comfortable with the strength radiating between them.

“I’ve been thinking."

Buffy glanced up. "Yeah?"

"After this is over…Zangy’s been a right git recently, but I think he might…" Spike paused. "I wonder about leavin’ for a while."

"Leaving?"

"New York. Comin’ back here. Helpin’ Zack get rot settled while Cordy’s playin’ mum." He exhaled softly. "I never gave him the chance to find himself. An’ the things he said…wishin’ I’d never—"

"Zack hasn’t been himself since we got here," Buffy retorted. "Everything’s been in the air. We can’t make decisions based on our feelings during times of extreme emotional trauma. We just found out our memories are all implanted. Zack and Zack just found out they have brothers. Zack found out he wasn’t the only Zack in your life—not even the only Zangy. He’s been moody, yeah, but none of us have been at our best. He won’t like it if you move across the country and leave him alone."

A bitter chuckle stung Spike’s throat. "Buggered if I do an’ buggered if I bloody don’t, eh, luv?"

"He’ll see it as abandonment."

"After sayin’ I fucked up his life?"

"Like I said—"

"He’s going to resent me either way."

"Well, Spike, neither one of us have done much to step up to the plate. You’ve had your foot in both words…going from being Zack’s best friend to being the head of the Clan. You’ve tried so hard to be both because you don’t want to be Angelus." She tugged him to a stop, meeting his eyes. "Sweetie, on your worst day, you could never be Angelus. But you have been sending a world of mixed signals…not intentionally, but switching from the best friend to the leader has…"

"I don’t want to be the leader."

"I know."

"But I don’ have a choice."

Buffy pursed her lips and nodded. "We’re a clan," she said softly. "An Order. A very unconventional, very unique Order. When this is over, we’re going to need to settle through and talk it out. If you want things to keep as they are, you need to at least assert yourself as the Order head. Say exactly what I just did: we’re unconventional, we’re unique, and this is the way it is. You’re the oldest, so you naturally assume the part. It’s the way it is for us…for vampires."

"He won’ care."

"After this? After being soulless?"

"I feel like an absolute berk tellin’ him rot."

"Spike…"

"If we just give him time…he an’ Kelly…they’re gonna have a bloody lot to work through."

Buffy was quiet for another second before offering another nod. "Okay," she said, her voice full of concession. "Okay."

"We’ll move here?" Spike asked.

"If you think that’s what’s best."

"I do. For the moment, yeah, I do."

"Okay." A pause. "But I’m not leaving Kelly."

"What?"

"My childe, my only childe? I’m not leaving her to go through this alone."

"So we’re not leavin’ New York?"

"Not unless Kelly comes with us."

Spike’s lips twitched. "So when you said ‘if you think that’s what’s best…’"

"Yeah, I was pretty much just throwing you a bone there."

"An’ then takin’ it away."

Buffy smirked at him. "Knowing you, Fang Face, you won’t have any trouble finding another bone in no time."

"So we stay in New York?"

"I think you’re making rash decisions based on your emotional reaction to Zack losing his soul. You’re looking at what happened right before it happened to find a way to put blame on yourself. And here I keep telling you, it wasn’t your fault." She leaned up, brushing a kiss across his lips. "You’re wigging. It’s okay. We all do. But that’s why I’m here…I keep you from turning your world upside down in the heat of things. We’ll talk with Zack when this is all said and done…when he’s…when he’s okay again. If he wants you out, then yeah. But he’s not going to survive without you. He won’t know what to do."

"Why?"

Buffy grinned. "You’re the leader."

Spike stared at her for a long minute, then offered a chuckle and draped his arm across her shoulder. "You drive a hard bargain, luv."

"I’ve been told."

"So we find this lair an’ save the life-changin’ decisions for later?"

She nodded, kissing the bite mark which proclaimed Spike hers to the world and reveling in the shudder that tore through his body. "Sounds like a plan."

*~*~*

"I love a woman on top."

Darla flashed a toothy grin, resting her hands on Zack’s chest as her thrusts grew harder. "Your woman never steer?"

"She wouldn’t know what to do with it if she did."

The blonde’s smile broadened. "Poor little mousy housewife."

"Fuck…harder."

"Want me to fuck you harder?"

He clutched her hips. "God yes. A real fuck. Never had anything like this before."

"Oh darling," Darla clucked, shaking her head and clenching her vaginal walls around him. "You do not have the first clue of what you’re missing."

Zack’s eyes flickered meaningfully. "Show me."


	16. Chapter 16

For all her youth and exuberance, Rosalie was only almost as quick as her father. The second he bolted from the room, she was right on his heels, calling after him, catching only shadowy wisps of his form as he tore through the halls and toward the lobby.

The look in his eyes…she hadn’t seen him so haunted. Not since she grew up, anyway. The years with Cordelia had provided him with light and happiness—joy that she, as a little girl, had never fathomed him finding again.

"Dad!"

Zack Wright ignored her, exploding into the lobby. "What are we doing?" he demanded, his eyes finding Kelly, who sat on the settee with William. It was near impossible not to notice the purple bruises on the child’s neck; the sight had Wright hardening with rage. "What’s being done? Where’s Spike? And…please, someone…tell me what’s going on?"

Kelly ran her hands through William’s hair, though she was already making her way to her feet. "Zack?"

"Tell me what’s being done," he snapped, head whipping around to the form of Nikki as she wandered into the lobby. If he noticed the way she paused when she saw him, he made no mention. "Someone—"

"Dad!" Rosalie gasped, forcing herself to a halt before she collided into her father’s back. "It’s okay!"

"Okay?" Wright barked, whirling around, his eyes wide and desperate. "Okay?! My brother lost his soul, tried to murder his own son, and has paired up with Angelus and…" He gasped hard. "The monster who butchered your mother, and I should be fine because it’s okay?" He barked an incredulous laugh and swirled around again. "Fucking right."

The second he saw Kelly’s tearful face, however, reality slammed into him and he immediately reeled with regret. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice dropping in octaves. "That was…Kelly, I’m so sorry."

"You guys," Cordelia panted as the very pregnant woman appeared at the foot of the stairs, "have no idea how hard it is to keep up with people who aren’t about to pop out babies."

Wright immediately rushed to her side. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled. "You should be resting."

"So says the recently not-unconscious guy." Cordelia waddled to the settee beside William, edging herself into the seat. "You bolted. What was I supposed to do?"

"Stay in bed."

"Not on your life." Cordelia absently reached out to finger William’s soft, wispy hair. "I tried to tell you upstairs…we have it under control."

Wright’s eyes narrowed. "I’m out of it for a little while and you guys manage to misplace my brother’s soul," he said wryly. "Sorry if that doesn’t sound like any definition of _under control_."

At that, Kelly choked a sob and flung herself into Wright’s arms, the power of her leap nearly knocking him off his feet. He rocked, collected his balance, and folded his arms around her on instinct. The crackle of her tears did him in; he might be a hard, resolute demon hunter, but a crying woman could drag him to his knees. To be the cause of a woman’s tears made him feel positively monstrous.

"I’m sorry," Wright murmured, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "I didn’t mean to…to be so careless." He glanced over to Cordelia’s bemused eyes and mouthed, "Under control?"

She nodded. "Wesley, Fred, and Gunn went to the Morris’…for Zack’s mom. She’s an innocent in all this, and Zack has an all access pass to her house which they’re currently revoking. Buffy phoned Willow and she’s on her way…to restore Zack’s soul. Buffy and Spike are out trying to locate Zack now. We’re doing everything we can."

Again him, Kelly nodded with a pitiful sniff.

There was an awkward beat. Wright met Rosalie’s eyes, and she offered a solemn nod. He sighed, rubbed Kelly’s back, and calmed at last. "All right," he said. "All right. So…what? We’re waiting until…"

"Until Buffy and Spike get back," Rosalie confirmed.

Nikki huffed. Cordelia shot her a hard glance.

Wright tossed a glance to the front windows. "Anyone else notice it’s daylight?" he asked. "Did they really have to choose such a vamp-friendly time to talk a walk?"

"They have rings," Cordelia explained.

"Of course they do," Nikki grumbled.

Wright blinked. "What?"

"Rings," Kelly choked, holding up her hand demonstratively. "All of us…we have them."

"Prevents sunlight from killing them," Cordelia confirmed. "Stakes, decapitation, fire…that’s all still viable, but sunlight—"

Kelly shuddered again. Wright scowled at his practically-wife. "Did you have to do that?"

"What? I was just explaining—"

"Still, a little sympathy never hurt anyone."

Cordelia blinked at him. "You’re the least predictable man on the planet," she said. "Anyway, since Zack has one of those rings, Buffy and Spike are out making sure he’s not doing something any one of us might have to stake him over." She glanced to Kelly. "That was…I don’t mean literally. More a…figurative staking."

"Nice save."

She shrugged. "I try."

"I’m okay," Kelly said, her voice wobbly, slowly disentangling herself from Wright’s embrace. "I didn’t mean to…lunge or anything. I just…you’re his brother, you know?"

"I don’t like it when Mommy cries," William said softly, his voice hoarse…though not with tears.

Wright eyed the small child, then shifted his gaze to Cordelia’s belly. "Where’s the other one?" he asked. "Rosie? Where…"

"Nikki was watching her." Rosalie arched a brow and eyed her aunt. "Where’s Rosie?"

"Looking through books written in ancient Aramaic," Nikki retorted. "In the basement. Safe as houses."

"Isn’t the basement where we keep the larger weapons?" Cordelia asked, smiling sweetly when Nikki shot her a hardened glare. "She’s smart, but curious. You should go check it out. Make sure she doesn’t hurt anything."

There was a long, heavy pause. "Yeah," Nikki agreed coldly. "All right."

She was gone the next second.

Wright blinked. "Did I miss something?"

Kelly and Cordelia exchanged a glance and, to his utter bafflement, snickered. "Many, many things," the latter agreed. "But nothing out of the ordinary."

He was certain he would have zapped her back with an incredibly witty retort had voices not carried into the foyer has Wesley, Fred, Gunn, and an older woman he didn’t know tumbled into the hotel. And before he could utter a word, the woman in question tore from the doorway and practically tackled Kelly to the ground.

"Oh sweetie!"

"Mom!"

Zack Wright arched a brow and glanced to Wesley, who mouthed, "Zack’s mother."

"Are you okay?" the older woman demanded. "Is everything okay? William?" She glanced over Kelly’s head, her eyes welling with tears when she saw the bruises on the little boy’s neck. "Oh William!"

"Meema!" the child cried, wiggling onto the ground and rushing into his grandmother’s arms. "Meema!"

"Is he all right?" the woman cried, her hands immediately going to the bruises. "Oh William…where’s Rosie?"

"In the basement," Kelly said softly. "Looking at books."

A tearful laugh erupted from the woman’s lips. "Of course she is…I…" She paused and glanced up, meeting Cordelia’s eyes. "Oh. This must be…Wesley explained…" She swallowed hard and rose to her feet. "I’m Melody Morris."

"Hi," Cordelia said with a wave. "I’d get up and shake your hand, but it’d take about an hour and a half."

Melody’s eyes fell to her bulging belly. "Oh. And you’re…that’s Derek’s—"

"That’s Derek’s nothing," Wright snapped before he thought the better of it. "That child has one grandparent—one. Her name was Amelia Wright. She—"

Melody wasn’t listening, though. Melody was staring.

"I know," Cordelia said. "Crazy, huh?"

"—and there’s no way Derek’s going to ever even hold my daughter, much less—"

"Oh my God," Melody gasped. And before Wright could blink, he found himself tackled by another weeping woman.

Only this time, he wasn’t so much understanding as very confused. "Ummm…"

"My son," the woman gasped.

Wright murmured something unintelligible, feeling at once incredibly awkward. "Mrs. Morris…I know this is…well, very strange, but…"

"You could’ve been mine," Melody whimpered, pulling back, her eyes shining with tears. Her hands went to his hair, which hung longer than it had in years. His face was scraggly with the hint of a beard—granted, the same hint he’d worn for years—and while he knew he looked very much like her son, he found her sudden motherly scrutiny overbearing.

And very touching.

"You could have been mine," the woman murmured again. "Oh…Zack…"

"It’s Wright," he said quickly. "I go by Wright, most of the time."

It was partially true. Cordelia was pretty much the only person who called him Zack anymore. If others did, he didn’t notice. But to this woman, he needed to be Wright. He couldn’t bear the face and the name of her son.

"Wright, then," Melody agreed, smiling. "Wright."

He cleared his throat and nodded at Kelly. "Well…I’m sure you…I’m sure you…with the family. And stuff. I…I gotta get outta here. I…"

He turned around just as Spike and Buffy materialized in the doorway.

"We know where they are," the Slayer said without preamble. "Time to mount up."

*~*~*

Willow was very accustomed to panic. As a child, she’d panicked over everything from broken Tonka trucks to visits from the mailman. In grade-school, her panic transferred from the intangible to things like tests and homework. She was Xander’s foil in that regard, which was why she suspected they’d been such good friends as children. Time and discipline had schooled her reactions…

…as well as the heady knowledge that she could control her destiny.

Thus when Willow glanced up, her eyes absorbing the mess that had once been the front of the car only to spy flecks of blood on the dashboard, she tempered her customary panic.

The cut on Sam’s head was a different matter.

"Oh God," she gasped, unthinkingly pressing her hand to his brow. Skin grew over the gash in a blink, but she didn’t release him. Not until she felt every wound seal itself shut. Until she was certain he was all right. She then turned her attention to herself, but thankfully there wasn’t much to heal. The airbag had actually done its job.

Now why in God’s name had they crashed?

Willow frowned and pushed on the door once, twice, before finally blasting it open with a huff. She debated collecting her wand from her purse, but thought the better of it. As most Muggles who discovered their own magic ability, she had little use of her wand. Her power was deeper than that. While normal witches and wizards were intimately connected with magic at all times, Willow’s connection with the mystical was so entrenched that to remove it would be, in essence, to remove her heart, lungs, and brain. She couldn’t survive without it because it was something she learned, not something that came naturally. She’d schooled the mystical on her own, and it had since grown into something that she couldn’t live without.

This was why wands were wholly unnecessary to her. In her world, she carried one in public to avoid questioning. Those who knew her well encouraged her to embrace her unique status, but as it was, Muggle-born witches and wizards were discriminated against by Pure Bloods. A witch who was not only Muggle-born, but fully Muggle was a different thing altogether. Not one dabbling Muggle had ever come as far as Willow, and the fact that she could blow most everyone away with a blink was intimidating to those who felt blood meant something.

Ostensibly, she and Sam and run into nothing. Nothing. A wall of nothing blocked them from the Los Angeles city limits. However, as Willow approached the unseen barrier, wisps of electricity tickled her insides and made the hairs on her arms stand at attention. The nothing was something greater than anything she could have foreseen.

The answer was simple, of course. Wolfram and Hart. This had to be their handiwork. Zack would have forewarned them that Willow was there. Zack would have known she would be called to restore his soul. And they would have done everything to keep her out.

"Dammit," she swore, raising her hand to the invisible wall. Energy cracked against her palm. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

"Willow!" She whirled around. Sam was rushing up to her. "Willow…my God, are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I am, too. I have no idea how…" He tossed a glance to the wreckage that had once been the car. The effects of the crash extended for what looked to be miles down the highway. Horns honked. Sirens blared. In the distance, she thought she heard the wail of an ambulance, but that could have been the air playing tricks on her. "I just…I should help them. You’re all right?"

"Yes."

"Not a scratch?"

"You’re free to inspect me bodily when we get somewhere a little less fifty-car pile-up." She turned her attention back to the wall of nothing. "Sam…could you just…stand over here for a second please?"

He frowned but did as she asked.

"Over…okay, now walk back."

"Ummm." His feet carried him backward, past the barrier and safely to the other side, therein confirming her fears. It wasn’t just a wall; it was a wall that only applied to her.

"Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?" Sam asked, his eyes heavy with concern.

"I didn’t." Willow exhaled deeply. She’d arrived at a proverbial fork in the road, only both roads led to the same conclusion. She’d have to tell Sam the truth and face Josh’s wrath later, or convince Sam she was just insane only to have her be proven very sane by what he would inevitably see. Either way, their relationship was about to undertake an ultimate test of faith. Faith on Sam’s part, anyway. Sam would either accept and love her as the magically-inclined person she was, or get massively freaked and run for the hills.

She really hoped for the former. She liked him too much to give him up.

 _More than like_.

"Shush," she told her mind, flexing her hands. "Okay. Here it goes."

Sam looked truly worried now. "Here what goes?" he asked. "Willow…?"

To Willow, magic was air itself. When she focused her energy on its beat, she could hear it coursing through her veins. Feel it pumping her heart. Feel the familiar tightening of her chest as sparks of something wonderful began to pulsate. It strengthened between her hands, starting as nothing at first until forming a large purple-and-read orb. Bolts of lightening charged between her fingers, growing monstrous, growing until she knew she had to release it before it consumed her.

She spared Sam a glance. He looked terrified.

And rightly so. She was showing him her world, and she hadn’t prepared him for any of it.

"Please work," she whispered, then thrust the huge sphere of pure strength against the barrier. The reaction was immediate; it exploded. Shards and colors flew across the pavement, sending her to her back without warning. It wasn’t entirely unexpected; rather, she figured Wolfram and Hart would have the normal safe-guards up. After all, what was a huge invisible wall if the witch could knock it down with a light show?

"Willow? Willow!"

 _God_. Sam. _Sam_. What was she going to say to him?

"Willow…" He knelt beside her, his features twisted with worry. "Oh sweetheart, are you okay?"

"It didn’t work," she whispered.

"What didn’t work?" he asked, scooping her into his arms, the proverbial White Knight.

"The spell."

"What spell?"

Willow frowned, dread consuming her insides. "…you didn’t see it?"

"I saw you…you had a seizure." He turned his attention to the sound of sirens in the distance. "The crash…we need to get you to a hospital and now."

"It wasn’t a seizure."

"Will—"

"I tried to do a spell, but it backfired."

Sam’s brow furrowed. "A spell?"

"I’m a witch."

"No you’re not."

"I really, really am."

"You’re wonderful. Don’t call yourself names."

Willow rolled her eyes. "I wasn’t. I’m quite proud to be a witch, but you couldn’t know because of the thing." She motioned to the unseen wall. "I need to get to Los Angeles."

"And we will…after you get checked out."

Willow shook her head and wiggled out of his arms, though a part of her would have been happy to let him cart her wherever he cared to cart her. "Sam, listen to me very carefully," she said. "I’m Willow Rosenberg, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’ve been a practicing Wicca ever since I put a soul into a vampire called Angelus. My friend, Buffy, is the world’s oldest vampire slayer, not to mention a vampire herself. I’m going to Los Angeles because her friend, Zack Morris, another vampire, lost his soul. Now…"

The concern in Sam’s eyes had leaked to the rest of him; he was terrified. Worried and terrified. "Willow, you need to get help. You need—"

A roar interrupted him. Willow’s eyes widened.

A hierlyuk demon flashing three rows of venomous fangs was advancing.

Right for Sam’s head.

There was no time for thought. She pushed Sam aside, thrust out her palm and yelled, " _Incindo_!"

The demon burst into flames, screeching, wailing, and eventually melting into a pit of black tar.

Though from the look on Sam’s face, she knew he hadn’t seen a thing.

Except her. Looking like a crazy person.

Willow huffed out a breath. This was a whole new thing.

*~*~*

Josh gaped at Donna as he struggled to pull himself off of the cold tile floor. "What?" he gasped. "What the hell just happened here?"

Donna groaned as she looked up at the florescent lights on the ceiling. "I forgot about the warning."

"A warning? You were given a warning? Wish someone had just given me a warning?" He paused. "And where are we?"

Donna sat up to look at him. "If Giles’s calculations were correct, I think we just landed in Sam and Willow’s bathroom."

Josh arched a brow. "They’re already living together?"

"Their hotel room."

The only hotel room Josh remembered them sharing was an entire continent away from where they had been standing only one minute ago. "Huh?"

The blonde haired woman pulled herself up. "Giles told me one time that there is a magic…thing, which can allow people to travel distances in a matter of seconds. It’s called a Portkey."

"Really, ‘cuz I call it—"

"Josh," she interrupted. "We have to hurry and get to where Sam and Willow might be."

"Yeah."

The couple gathered themselves and their bearings and walked into the main room. The screams of the cleaning woman were a bit unexpected.

*~*~*

"Are you sure you’re up to this?"

Kelly nodded. "Extra sure." She knew everyone kept seeing her as a vulnerable liability and she hated it. What she hated worse was the fact that she was feeling that way about herself. She hoped that seeing Zack once more in a soulless nature would give her the strength to comprehend that the man who had tried to murder her son nearly twenty-four hours before was not her husband.

"We can handle this if you’d rather—"

"Wright," Kelly interrupted. She was already in love with her new brother-in-law, but that didn’t mean that she needed him to always handle her like a fragile child. "Just…Just let me do this."

"She’ll be okay," Buffy assured as she walked over to stand by her childe. They shared a brief look before turning back to the others.

"Then, let’s do it," Wright said with a shrug.

"I wanna come, too," Rosalie announced as she stepped forward.

Spike, Buffy, Kelly and Wright all turned around to look at the child. "No," her father said simply.

Rosalie folded her arms in protest. "And why not?"

"Does the words ‘because I say so’ not count?"

"Nope."

Wright narrowed his gaze. "Then how about you’re a minor, I’m your dad, and I say so."

"I’m gonna go, whether you like it or not."

"Oh really?" Wright demanded. "Because I think the last thing we need right now is to worry about you plus our own asses."

Rosalie’s fire didn’t die, even when faced with the opposition of her father. "I want to be there. I want to face her." She didn’t want to admit that she wanted to face Zack as well. She was still reeling with the idea that the man who had saved her life one moment had become a soulless monster in the next.

"Let her come," Kelly interjected. She and everyone else knew that it was the best decision. The girl wasn’t going to stay home and it would be much easier to protect her if she was in their eyesight. Kelly had also heard from Cordelia that she was able to put up more of a fight than most humans.

Wright didn’t like it, but he knew it was his only real option. "Fine," he grumbled. "But don’t expect me to get you a car."

"That’s what my mom is for."

Wright looked his daughter in the eye. All of the fight that he had previously had toward the child evaporated in a second. He didn’t know how he got so lucky. "Well, yeah."

Spike finally felt the group was ready for the job. "Let’s do it."

*~*~*

Sam was in complete shock. He kept looking back at the car he had just been driving, and couldn’t possibly comprehend how he was alive. He even saw blood on the dashboard, but couldn’t find a scratch on either Willow or himself. The congressman couldn’t comprehend why the front-end of the rental was smashed in when there was no sign of the car even hitting anything.

All of those questions were pushed aside as he dealt with two pressing issues: there was a line of casualties behind them and he thought Willow needed medical attention.

"How about we walk up the road?" Sam gently pushed. "I think there’s a rest stop at the next exit. We can sit and…" _Call an ambulance._

"I can’t," Willow said simply as she turned back to the invisible wall.

Sam blinked. "You can’t walk? I thought you said you were fine?"

"I can’t get through the wall, Sam. Wolfram and Hart have obviously realized I can resoul Zack with little effort and decided they were going to be a huge pain in my ass right now."

He didn’t know what to say. She had obviously suffered a horrible concussion and was trapped in some sort of demented fantasy. He understood that these things were real to her, but he didn’t know what to do. "Maybe I can push down the wall," he said melodramatically. He walked over to the general area which Willow had been concentrating her attention and did a pitiful mime impression of pushing on an invisible box.

Not only was he two feet off the mark, but Willow was annoyed at the tone he was using. "I’m not crazy, you know."

"Of course." His voice was far from convincing.

Willow was about to make another plea, but was interrupted as another demon ran up from behind, hitting her to the ground with a blow to the head.

 _"Willow!"_ Sam screamed as she fell. He ran toward her, but she knew he would only put himself in harms way. With a flick of her hand, she tripped him and sent him to the ground. She’d worry about his potential scraped knees once their lives were no longer in immediate danger.

 _"Incindo!"_ As the demon turned to dust she ran over to her man. "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" he croaked as he pulled himself off the ground. "I’m fine, but you’re…God, Willow, I can’t keep watching this. You’re hurting yourself." He reached over to gently touch a cut on her cheek which was inflicted in the last fight. "I’m taking initiative. I’m getting you out of here!" With that, he grabbed her hand and started dragging her toward the wall.

"Sam," she pleaded. She didn’t put up too much fight because she had just had a thought. Sam could possibly help her get through the wall. Maybe his contact with her could create a means for her to walk through as easily as he had time and time again.

Her plan was quickly shot to hell. He was able to get through again, but her fingertips couldn’t penetrate. "Willow! Seriously, you need to get help!"

"Are you saying I’m mental?"

"I’m saying that the impact of the crash has obviously given you a serious internal injury."

"You think I have internal injuries?"

"In your head, yes."

She narrowed her gaze. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He looked at her stunned. "Honey, when you keep talking about magic and invisible walls and putting souls back into people—"

"Vampire. Zack’s a vampire." As she saw the look Sam was giving her, she realized that was possibly the stupidest clarification she had ever made. "But yeah…whatever."

"See…This is why we need to get you to a doctor." He turned back to the direction of the wreckage. "How about we head back the other way and go talk to the EMTs down the road."

"Sam, I have to get through this wall. There has to be something I haven’t thought to try yet."

"So you want to stand here in the middle of the freeway until you think of something better?"

"Well, my only option is to turn back and come up to the barrier from another entry point."

"That’s it," Sam said throwing his hands in the air. "I’m going to walk down there and describe this situation to them and let them decide if you’ve hit you head too hard or not."

She couldn’t let him out of her sight now. She knew that Wolfram and Hart was watching her and she knew they now knew she was traveling with Samuel Norman Seaborn. His life was in danger, which was exactly why she hadn’t wanted him to come in the first place.

But she couldn’t change the past. All she could do was protect him until she could figure out what Wolfram and Hart had done.

In seconds she decided the plan. Before Sam could know what hit him, she knocked him out. But at least she cared enough to make sure he landed on a pile of fluffy pillows. From there, she made quick work on the car, turning it back to new. She placed Sam inside and then proceeded to lock him there. She rolled the windows down so he would be able to breathe and talk, but his body couldn’t escape. She figured that would do well enough unless he knew how to hotwire vehicles.

She had a hint as she looked at the adorable congressman in his khaki pants and polo shirt that she would be safe for awhile.

Until she looked up and saw the next demon flying at her. "Okay, this is just getting annoying now."

*~*~*

"Mmmm," Darla groaned as she came off her last orgasm. "You’ve definitely got potential."

Zack gave a low chuckle. "You said I had more than that a few minutes ago."

"Well, I think I have some of _that_ in me right now."

Zack was basking in the enjoyment of his own orgasm. After Angelus left, Darla more than made up for the torture. Now his body had been energized by sex and he was more than ready to find a fight and a nice neck from which to drink.

Relaxation was interrupted as five white-hats bombarded the room.

"Oh. My. God." Rosalie gawked.

Darla rolled her eyes. She was still nestled on Zack’s lap, but she had the vantage point of looking over his shoulder to see the new arrivals. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

The face of the man she was screwing was blocked to the group’s eyesight, but Kelly new. She new immediately. She tried not to let the jealousy or the hurt control her actions. "Darla." A pause. "Zack."

"You mean…" Wright looked on in horror.

"Awkward," Spike declared.

Zack decided to sit up and let his presence be known as his lover crawled off and grabbed a robe. His eyes immediately searched out his wife’s and he gave a cocky grin. "Hey there, honey."

"You bastard," Buffy spat. She knew Kelly was unprepared for this.

Darla gave a rich chuckle. She turned her eyes to Wright. "If the endowment is genetic, I can only imagine how nice you’d feel between the thighs."

"Well, keep dreaming," he growled.

Darla shrugged him off and turned to Kelly. "Wow, that boy has some potential. So sad he was never given a real opportunity to…prove it before today."

Kelly spoke in a darker voice than any had ever heard. "Well, we all can’t just be whores for eternity."

Darla’s eyes flickered. "You should have heard the things he said." She lowered her voice to imitate Zack. "Fuck her out of me! Oh God, I can still taste her, make it go away! She could never steer me like you!"

A wicked smirk crossed Kelly’s face as she took a dangerous step forward. "Too bad you’ll be dead before long and he’ll have a whole lot of souled nights to beg for forgiveness."

Both soulless vamps laughed. Zack got off the bed and showed off his naked physique before slipping on his pants. "Here’s the thing, Kel. I don’t plan on being soul _ful_ ever again." He turned to Spike. "Man, you should have told me how good this feeling is. It explains why you strutted around so much before."

Spike gave him a look, but remained unreadable. "Yeah, well…my bad."

"What I don’t understand is how a soulless vamp like yourself could be such a…pussy."

"Watch it buddy," Buffy quipped. "You forget I have now seen both penises and I can testify as to who has the bigger bragging rights in the manhood department."

Darla smirked. "It’s not just the size, but how you use it."

"I distinctly remember that Angel had neither, so no wonder Zack’s getting your rocks off."

Spike gave her a bemused look. "Distinctly?"

She shrugged. "Maybe that was too strong a word."

Zack feigned a yawn. "Bored now." Then he cracked a grin. "God, it feels so damn good to say that now. When I was all souled up, I felt I had to be a friend and all that shit, but now…you guys bore the _hell_ out of me."

"Oh," Buffy said with an eye roll. "And this is the look of me giving a damn."

Zack looked to Kelly again. Kelly was his target. Kelly was the one he wanted to kill at the moment. Just the sight of her brought back all the memories of humanity he wanted so desperately to rip from his existence. "So, how’s Will?"

Kelly’s eyes flashed yellow. "Oh, he’s fine. Especially since you’ll never get to touch him again."

"Pity. I had such great plans for him." Another wicked grin. "And Rosie." The room went silent. "Oh yes, I have plans for her." He looked around the room and met Rosalie’s face. "I have a plan or two for you, too."

Darla giggled. "I knew once I got him going, he’d be a hard one to stop."

"You look at her again and I’ll fucking kill you," Wright snarled.

Zack’s face lit up. "Oh! Got a good one in mind, now. How about I tie you up and make you watch." He gave Wright a haunting look of amusement. "Make you watch as I fuck your baby girl in front of you."

"Enough," Spike growled.

Zack mocked him with feign disappointment. "Oh, Papa Bear. Why can’t any of the other kiddies ever have any of the fun? It always has to be the Spike Show." He sighed. "Fine, let’s get the attention back to you."

Kelly interrupted Spike’s next quip. She brazenly left the confines of group protection and walked up to Zack. "You better watch yourself, Morris. Right now, I’m the only thing keeping you from dust and I’m not so inclined to rush to your defense at this point."

"Oh darling, them sound like fightin’ words."

Kelly’s roundhouse kick to the head was all the answer he needed.

He bounced up in game face, slightly surprised to find Kelly already there. The two began to circle one another and the room was stunned at how confrontational Kelly had become.

"You take Darla," Buffy directed her husband. "I’ve got Kelly’s back." With that the Slayer turned her full attention to the fighting couple.

Darla didn’t look very afraid as she looked at Spike and Wright slowly approaching. In fact, her attention turned to Rosalie. "Well, kitten, looks like you’re in for an interesting time, huh?" She grinned wickedly. "Did you tell Daddy all the mean little things I said about Mommy last time we played?"

Wright flashed a quick glance to his daughter. She had forgotten to mention that she was the one who met up with Darla earlier. "Trust me, I’ve heard enough for now."

"Pity," the blonde vampire pouted. "Because I really wanted to share with you all the juicy little details. Did I ever mention about how he was alive when I ripped him out?"

"Stop," Wright growled.

Darla chuckled. "She was too, now that I think about it."

 _"STOP!"_ Rosalie screamed, charging toward the woman.

Spike grabbed hold and held the girl back.

Darla ignored them all. She looked off into space, reliving those vicious moments. "Can’t remember who was the first to die. I think it was her, actually. Hard to survive with your guts falling out."

Wright couldn’t control himself a moment longer. White, hot raged clouded his judgment and he charged with every intention of murder. Unfortunately, he hadn’t given his body time to recover from all of the other inflictions he had sustained in the past few days.

The fight with Zack and Kelly was turning nastier. The blows being exchanged showed no signs of stopping and Buffy was trying to figure out how to break up the action. She knew Kelly had strength, but Zack currently had the advantage—both in brute strength as well as intention. She knew that as much as she talked, Kelly wasn’t about to kill her husband. Zack, on the other hand, desperately wanted Kelly dead.

Wright was quickly on the ground, but Spike stepped in to rescue him from further abuse. "You want it rough?" Spike cocked his head. "Then by all means." He spread his arms in open invitation. "Been a while since you tried to kick me ‘round."

Darla sneered. "Well, this is just too easy."

Buffy turned her attention briefly to her husband in combat. Just long enough to miss Zack flip Kelly to the ground. In an instant he had her pinned and was straddling his wife’s chest. "Well, this has been fun."

Kelly looked up, fear twitching in her yellow eyes.

"She was right you know." Zack was confident he had the upper hand. "Buffy, if you come a step closer I’ll kill her this second." The Slayer stopped her approach. "I meant that Darla was right about what I said."

"Good to know," Kelly spat.

"Thank God I don’t smell like you anymore." He roughly stabbed his fingers in a cut across her cheek before taking the blood to his lips. "At least not your pussy."

Kelly tried once again to struggle for release, but she knew under the current conditions she was completely incapacitated. "I had no idea that sex could be so good!" He cackled. "It’s been like fucking a virgin for a decade."

"Let me up or kill me now," Kelly snarled. "Because I swear when you get your soul back, I’m gonna make you wish you never said that."

The mention of a soul made Zack angry. "There’s no fucking point. Nothing you can do is gonna bring your Zack back." He turned and gave Buffy a wicked look. "And no one for that matter."

"Wondered how stupid you were."

"Bet you wonder about a lot of things," he said with a wink.

"Only in your fantasies."

The room stopped as a new presence entered. "Glad to see the party’s just getting started."


	17. Chapter 17

Nicholas sighed as he tossed down the folder. After five hours of intense studying, he was certain he knew which girl was going to receive the Call. He looked up at the clock on the wall. Faith and Rupert were bound to be landing in California at any moment.

Did he want to sit here and bide his time, or did he want to take a gut chance and head toward his new Slayer?

"Argentina?" He murmured to himself as he began to gather his things. "There hasn’t been a substantial demon population there in years. The PTB would be out of their minds."

He grabbed his bag and placed the top file inside. He raided his desk, where he had kept a couple of his smaller weapons. Moving to the bookshelf he grabbed a couple of choice books he felt would give him a good head start in dealing with a teenage demon fighter.

Then he stopped and pulled out the file once more. Flipping it open, he took one last, long look at the photo attached. He sighed and shut it, shoving it in the bag. "Right, then."

With that, he slipped out of the Watcher’s Council and made his way across the ocean.

*~*~*

Truly, it was only a matter of time before Angelus made his presence known, though if the overbearing forehead thought he would provide distraction, he was only partially right. His words provided the precise lapse Buffy needed in drawing Zack’s attention from his struggling wife, an amateur mistake for which he would likely be punished should they all make it out alive.

Never had Buffy suspected she would react with such enthusiasm at seeing her practically-brother-in-law fly across the room off one of her kicks, but it was fruitless denying the raw satisfaction at seeing his body smash into the far wall.

"Fucking bitch!" Zack snarled, bounding back to his feet.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like I haven’t been called worse." She whirled with a roundhouse kick when he came at her again, distantly aware of Spike growling and leaping between her and Darla when the elder vampire attempted to intervene. Kelly was similarly on her feet in a blink, gathered beside Wright and Rosalie, who had all drawn near the exit, their weapons now aimed at Angelus.

"This is your grand plan?" Angelus drawled. "Two barely passable vamps, the scorned woman, and an aging demon hunter?" His eyes settled on Rosalie as he licked his lips. "And a tight virginal cunt."

It wasn’t often a human moved faster than a demon, and to his credit, Angelus had never truly seen Zack Wright in action. Thus, when the remark was met by a fury of movement and left the dark-haired vampire with a bloodied-nose, it was more surprise than pain that had Angelus keeling over.

"Fuck!" he screamed. "I’m gonna rip out your innards, boy."

Wright arched a confident brow. "Touch me or mine, and next time you won’t have a nose to bloody."

Darla’s eyes were no longer colored with mirth. "What can I say," she hissed, glaring at Wright. "He would have been magnificent for a reason."

Wright smiled nastily. "I tell you, sweetcheeks, you seem awfully hung up on me. Guess neither tweedle-dee or tweedle-dumbass can do it for you."

Angelus growled and found himself punched again for his efforts. It didn’t stop him from coming at Wright again, anymore than it stopped Wright from proving super-strength didn’t equate supremacy.

"You’re not always going to be around to guard your little girl’s pussy," Angelus snarled.

Rosalie smiled sweetly. "You try and touch me and I will definitely fuck you up, and not the way you want."

"She’s mine, anyway, old man," Zack growled, smiling nastily at Wright before turning his outraged eyes back to Buffy. "Family gets first dibs, after all."

"You’re just begging to have your ass kicked," the Slayer quipped.

"I won’t be the one begging for long." He tossed Spike a nasty smirk. "Can’t wait to see what keeps you locked inside her pussy twenty-four/seven."

The remark was clearly designed to make Spike lose control, and while Buffy felt a powerful ripple of pure rage course through her mate, he didn’t grant Zack the satisfaction of lunging forward or losing his grip on himself.

Thus when Spike refused to take the bait, Zack’s fledgling impatience got the better of him and he again attempted to lunge for Buffy. It was a rookie mistake, one anyone could make, one Spike had, on more than one occasion, pointed out in their familial sparring sessions. One he made again, and with whimsy which could have, with any other opponent, rendered him golden flecks of dust.

Buffy’s foot met Zack’s gut, sending him reeling back toward the wall again. She followed up with a kick to his face as he attempted to climb to his feet. When he gathered his bearings, fury outweighed strategy. Fangs bared and eyes blazing, he came at her again with nothing resembling control. Arms swung. Legs kicked. Teeth chomped. Buffy gracefully averted impact with every careless swing. She ducked, rolled, and blocked in a manner that would indicate she had forewarning as to every move, no matter how careless, Zack would make.

"What’s wrong, Zack?" she teased lowly, "not as strong as you thought?"

"Fight me!" he screamed, swinging madly for her head, only to have her duck out of the way and roll a safe distance to the left. "You fucking bitch, fight me!"

Buffy perked a brow, casually ducking his blow. "You don’t want that. Trust me."

"Not if you want your ass to be in one piece an’ not li’l flecks of dust," Spike agreed.

"Kelly won’t—"

"Kelly _would_ ," Kelly argued, rubbing her throat. "If you think Kelly won’t, you have another thing coming."

"With you, I doubt it," Zack spat. "You’re the only woman in the world who could make a man fake it."

"That’s it." A stake materializing in her hand, Buffy landed a kick in Zack’s gut, throwing him against the wall again. Her arm arced back, her other hand seizing him by the throat. "They should’ve made you with a mute button."

Zack’s eyes at last betrayed fear. "You wouldn’t dare," he gasped, staring at the stake.

"If you really believe that, you don’t know me at all." Buffy smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant. It was the sort of smile a predator gave its prey before moving in for the kill. "Don’t doubt me, boy. Certainly Angelus has told you…affection doesn’t keep me from killing for the better good."

Then the stake in her hand was buried in his throat, silencing his retort with the gruesome tear of flesh and a gurgle of blood. His eyes popped with shock, his hands flying to his throat as Buffy slowly released him, staring him down with such ruthlessness that shock eventually gave way to fear.

Her eyes set on the stake, her expression cold.

"This is what happens when you hurt mine," she said softly.

Then her foot collided with the smooth head of the stake, shoving it deeper through soft tissue, smirking bitterly as he attempted and failed to gasp, collapsing entirely to the ground.

Angelus and Darla stood stunned for a full fifteen seconds before the latter screamed her outrage and tore forward. Spike leapt in before she could get within spitting distance of Buffy, roaring and slamming her into the progressing form of Angelus. His hand closed around his mate’s wrist, and then they were all running. Wright seizing Rosalie, Kelly trailing behind after favoring Zack with a last kick to the head.

"We left her alive!" Rosalie screamed, fighting her father every step of the way until he had no option save to toss her over his shoulder. "We can’t leave now! We left her alive!"

"We weren’t ready," Spike whispered to Buffy.

"I know," she replied, running harder until Wright’s car came into view. "But we will be."

*~*~*

Willow’s initial plan met the gutter in a big way. No matter what she tossed at the invisible wall, she couldn’t make one little dent. Not to mention every time she felt she had a running start, a slobbering demon with pointy teeth and sharp claws attempted to take her out. And while she had cast a veil over herself so she and the car in which she had Sam sleeping remained invisible to the authorities and paramedics, she was becoming increasingly aware that she was in a very public and precarious place.

She didn’t have enough by which to knock out the wall. Not with her. And unless she wanted to go all black-haired baddie, she didn’t dare do anything that would push her near the edge. No matter if she knew it had never happened—the promise of maybe was enough to keep her from pushing.

Thus, as stealthily as she could, she took the car and left the scene of the accident as Sam slumbered on, never the wiser. And while it took a good locater spell, Willow was able to pinpoint directions to a store that sold artifacts partial to her trade. From there, it was back to the hotel, where she charred three more assassin-demons and drowned a fire-proof Mishyc in a random sphere of rotating water.

Willow heaved a deep breath, waving at Sam’s sleeping form so that he followed her along, carted by air. With the other hand she made a small gesture at their hotel room door, breezing it open.

Only to find a very startled Josh and Donna on the other side.

"Wahh!" Willow cried, her broken concentration sending Sam to the floor with a hard _thunk_.

"What the hell?" Josh demanded.

Donna’s hands came up. "Sorry! We were just about to leave." Her eyes turned to Sam. "Is he…"

"I put him under a sleep whammy," Willow explained. "So that he didn’t do something rash like cart me off to a psychiatrist or get himself killed by a demon assassin. And… _what the hell are you doing here?"_

"It was all Donna’s idea," Josh said. "She did this weird thing and we were suddenly here."

"Portkey," Donna explained. "Giles set one up."

Willow stared at her blankly. "From England?"

"Apparently, he can do that."

Josh was too busy staring at Sam’s motionless body to leap into the explanation of how and why they were here. "You killed him," he whispered.

Willow paused before balking in defense. "What? I so did not! I had…look." Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "We were on our way to Los Angeles when we got caught in his massive traffic jam."

"Imagine that," Josh quipped.

Donna’s eyes narrowed. "Josh."

"I should stay quiet, shouldn’t I?"

Willow nodded. "If you want me to explain anything, it would help."

"Good luck," Donna muttered.

The redhead frowned, then continued. "The thing is, we were trying to cross the city limits—"

Donna interjected without thinking, "Wolfram and Hart put up a wall."

Willow blinked. "How did you know?"

"Giles told me."

"Giles told you?" Josh repeated. "You didn’t tell me that."

"Well, we were in a hurry and it didn’t seem important at the time." Donna’s eyes landed again on Sam. "What happened to him?"

Willow was silent for a minute, ostensibly attempting to piece her thoughts together now that she didn’t have to explain why she wasn’t on her way to the Hyperion and what was keeping her from placing Zack’s soul back where it belonged. "Ummm," she began, "Wolfram and Hart, in addition to putting up the mother of all roadblocks, put some major whammy on Sam. He can’t see anything mystical that happens around him. I hit the wall with an orb of energy the size of England, and all he saw was me waving my arms like a mad woman."

Donna’s face mirrored horror. Josh, predictably, looked moderately relieved.

"That’s not necessarily a bad thing," he observed.

"Josh!"

"What? I’m here to help Zack and everything, but if there’s a chance we can get out of this thing with Sam not knowing—"

Willow glared at him. "He thinks I’ve lost my mind!"

"I can live with that!"

"We’re also being hunted by demon assassins," she snapped. "All kinds. Wolfram and Hart wants me out of the picture, so they’ve set up something that keeps me from getting to Buffy and, more importantly, Zack’s soul. I can only hope it’s not as strong as it seemed and that’s why they sent assassins…hoping I’ll be eliminated before I figure out how to knock the wall down. And, to top things off, Sam can’t see the demons, either, so I have to keep him alive, me alive, and him from having me hauled off by men with white coats. You’re telling me it’s okay if he gets chomped so long as he doesn’t see the Chivragh demon behind the teeth?"

Josh stared at her for a long minute before deflating. He glanced down and nodded, casting a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sorry," he conceded. "It’s…it’s a thing."

"It always is," Donna agreed. "So Sam…did he get attacked?"

Willow fidgeted. "You could say that."

Josh’s eyes bulged. "You did this?"

"That’s a way of looking at it."

"What’s another?"

A beat. "That’s the only way of looking at it. I had to incapacitate him so he didn’t try to have me committed. Also, it kept him safe from the demon assassins."

Josh and Donna exchanged a glance. "Okay," the former said. "So…now what?"

"I stopped at a black arts dealer for supplies," Willow said, holding up the bag. "Whatever Wolfram and Hart has up is stronger than anything I can just throw at it."

"Meaning…"

"Meaning research. Meaning herbs and symbols and old school magic." Willow motioned to Sam and, almost by accident, his body lifted off the floor and deposited itself on the bed. "After I get a shield up—"

"Shield?" Josh echoed.

"To prevent demon assassins from interrupting our party?"

"Oh." He nodded, as though granting his consent. "Go on."

Willow met Donna’s eyes, and they shared a small, private grin. "After the shield’s up, I want to start by trying to unwork whatever whammy they have on Sam. It’ll be a lot easier keeping him alive if he can see what’s coming."

There was a pause at this; the redhead half expected Josh to counter her logic. She didn’t know if she was more surprised than Donna at his nod of agreement. It was definitely a close race.

"What can we do?" Josh asked.

Donna beamed at him like a proud mother.

"Well," Willow began, "three’s the most mystical number out there. With all of us working this thing, we have a much better shot than me alone."

Donna nodded. "You set it up and tell us where to sit."

"I can’t believe I’m doing this," Josh said.

"I can’t, either," Willow agreed.

"It’s for the greater good," Donna asserted. "Sam can’t be president if he gets mauled by a Chivragh demon."

Josh nodded, though it was clear—made up as his mind might be—that he was still trying to convince himself otherwise.

That was until the door burst open with a slimy, demon mess with daggers-for-teeth. By the time Willow had it destroyed, the look on Josh’s expression betrayed a completely different mindset.

"Yeah," he said, his voice oddly high-pitched. "Let’s do this thing."

*~*~*

"Okay, I gotta say it…"

"Stop."

Wright, for the life of him, couldn’t stop grinning. "Remind me to never piss off Buffy."

Spike smirked and tossed an arm over Buffy’s shoulder. "My girl plays dirty when need be," he said proudly. “I’ve been a good influence."

"Yeah, and while I get how it was the best move, can I just say, painful much?" Rosalie frowned and lightly caressed her throat. "I’m going to be feeling that for weeks."

Buffy shrugged. "His voice was annoying me," she reasoned as the five made the turn into the Hyperion. "It seemed the best way to shut him up."

Kelly, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for the bulk of the ride, offered a solemn nod. "And so say all of us."

The group sobered at that. No one had mentioned in great detail the manner in which Zack had been discovered, and for that, Buffy felt a ruthless collapse of culpability. Though she and Spike hadn’t discussed it, they had both known there was a good chance they would find Zack indisposed in some way or another. As the greatest tie to his humanity, he would take whatever he could to purge Kelly from his system. Darla was the most logical instrument, but the painful truth was it could have been anyone. He did it firstly for pleasure but overall to hurt his wife. He’d wanted her to see him and Darla together, and they’d all but led Kelly to the slaughter.

"I still don’t see why we left when we did," Rosalie said as she stormed over to Cordelia. The foyer was full and awake, as expected. Fred, Wes, Gunn, Nikki, and Melody lingered around the settees, all vigilant as the recon group littered the lobby.

"We weren’t ready," Wright offered wisely, though it was obvious he struggled with his own answer.

Rosalie motioned to Buffy. "She’d taken Zack out—"

Melody gasped loudly.

"No," Kelly said softly, holding up a hand to reassure her mother-in-law. "Buffy didn’t kill him." A pause. Her face hardened. "She did nothing less than he deserved."

"I just…shut him up," Buffy offered awkwardly.

"He won’ be out long," Spike observed. "Three days at the most, pending on how much fresh blood they pour down his throat."

Wesley’s eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"Let’s just say, Zack’s evil streak now includes infidelity," Kelly said, her voice numb.

Buffy nodded, her eyes dark. "It was a boneheaded move."

"If by boneheaded, you mean badass," Wright retorted, still grinning like a loon.

"No, I mean going at all." Buffy turned to Spike. "What were we thinking? What on earth did we hope to accomplish? They have the advantage, and they will so long as we have the hope of getting Zack back. All they have to do is hide behind him and we can’t touch them, all the while he does as much damage as he likes knowing full well we won’t touch him so long—"

"An’ the alternative is what, exactly?" Spike countered. "We sit here while Zangy makes merry with all the tasty villagers? You think our chums want to sit on their hands?"

"Absolutely not," Wright said promptly.

"No way," Rosalie agreed.

"Not while he’s out there," Kelly concluded, her eyes haunted eyes lost.

Wesley nodded. "Until Willow arrives, our options are rather limited…but that doesn’t mean we can ignore what’s happening."

"Willow will be here soon," Fred said.

"Though perhaps not as soon as we might like."

That voice came from the doorway. A welcome, warm break from the noise. All eyes turned to the entry, where Giles stood, fierce determination on his face.

"Giles," Kelly breathed.

"Hey, G! Might wanna wait up. Don’t wanna miss…" The raven-haired girl behind him drew up short, finding herself suddenly at the center of attention. "Well," she said. "Hello, LA."

*~*~*

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t feel, save for the scraps of torn flesh at his throat. Air cooled his insides. He couldn’t speak—couldn’t scream. It hurt too damned much when he tried.

"There, there, baby dear." Hands brushed his hair from his brow. "You’ll be all right."

Again he tried to find words. Again words eluded him. Instead, then, his lips formed a word.

"Blood?" Darla whispered for him. "You need blood."

He wanted to nod, but feared his head might fall off.

"Of course you do."

Another word attempted and failed. This time, her answer came in the form of a long chuckle, as though applauding his daring.

"Mine?" Darla retorted. "You want me to give you my blood? Oh Zack, that’s so sweet. So…naïve, but sweet. Granted, elder blood would heal you in a jiffy, but really, you’ve done nothing to earn that, have you?" Her hand covered the gaping wound at his throat. "This will heal as it must. Slowly. Painfully. If I give you the easy way out, you won’t learn anything, now will you?"

Zack’s eyes opened and he saw her.

"If you like, though," Darla added, smiling, "I’ll ride you as you heal."

*~*~*

The room was silent for several seconds. The awe of Giles’ presence was overshadowed by the sight of Faith. As far as common knowledge had been, Faith was supposed to be an evil Slayer machine. The fact that she now stood at the front of the Hyperion in Giles’ company was a little confusing.

"Hey!" Cordy stated, unafraid of sounding harsh. "I thought you were still in jail…being an evil bitch."

Faith gave a cheeky shrug. "Been there, done that."

Giles stepped inside as his eyes sought out his surrogate grandchildren. As he scanned the room, he explained the Slayer’s status. "Faith has been in England for the past few years."

"Slayer rehab," she said passively. "They figured I was the only Slayer about since Buffy decided to go over to the dark side."

"I am not—"

"That’s not my opinion, B," Faith said as she surveyed the room. "Just the tight asses across the pond." She caught the elder Watcher’s flinch. Slapping him on the back she reassured him. "Trust me, you don’t count. Didn’t they kick you out for fucking Buffy up or something?"

Giles moved on quickly. "Faith has been asked to come here and help with the situation."

The mention of Zack was enough to break Kelly from her position across the room. She ran to Giles and flung herself into his arms. The Watcher seemed visibly relieved to be able to comfort his adopted daughter.

Faith gave a nod to Spike and Buffy. She ignored Cordelia and her skeptical glance. She gave a wink to Wesley and ignored Fred, Gunn, Rosalie and Melody. Her eyes settled on Wright and she arched a brow. "Hey, do I know you?"

"Nope," he said a little too quickly. His cheeks were quickly turning an obvious shade of crimson.

"Are you sure?" Faith was scrutinizing the rugged man’s face.

"Yup."

Giles shared a look with Spike and Buffy as he held Kelly in his arms. "I’m guessing the situation hasn’t improved."

"You could say that," Buffy said with a glance to her husband.

"He’s screwing Darla as we speak," Kelly hissed as she pulled herself away from Giles’ shoulder. "He’s…with her."

"But he’s not bragging about it," Rosalie spoke. "He won’t be doing that for a while thanks to Buffy."

The blonde Slayer met the curious eyes. "I just shut him up in dramatic, pointy fashion."

"Wait! I know who you are!" Faith said looking at Wright. A grin spread across her face. "Hell yeah, I do!"

"You two have met?" Cordy asked.

"Oh yeah," she smirked. "Hard to forget! Mounted him like a bull and rode him all night long. God, I remember when you my ass? I still have that mark by the way."

"You what?" Gunn choked.

"Hell yeah!" Faith continued. "Some of the best goddamn sex of my life. I love a man who plays it rough." She looked at the red-faced man in question. "Surprised you never bragged. It was twelve hours of fucking bliss!"

"Twelve hours?" Wesley had to ask.

Cordelia’s look was unreadable. "Well, he’s definitely going to do some _bragging_ now."

"Damn," the brunette Slayer said in a nostalgic tone. "You were the only man who ever wore _me_ out." A sigh. "Mmm, mmm, mmmm…please tell me you’re ready for round two."

A look to Wright could tell only one thing: he was no longer breathing.

Cordy cast him a look, daring him to react.

Spike was torn between going to his friend’s defense and watching the hilarious show. He chose amusement as his default option.

Everyone else was staring on in shock.

Faith walked over and gave him a playful shove. "C’mon. You were never shy." She checked him up and down. "Not in the slightest."

Wright gave a cough and a glance to his lover. "Yeah, well…I…"

"Seriously, that night in Vegas is the stuff pornos are made of. The elevator and the shower are definitely in a tie, especially when I—"

"Oh. My. God." Rosalie gasped.

Wright looked to his daughter with a look of horror. "Stop. _Stop_." He met Faith’s confused gaze. "This…" He gestured to Rosalie. "Is my daughter."

Faith blinked and looked to the girl. "Oh, hey!"

He knew he had another woman to introduce. "And…this is my…Cordelia is my…"

"I’m having his baby."

Faith looked from Wright to Cordy and back again. "You’re shitting me!" All the demon hunter could do was shake his head. "Well, another one bites the dust," she sighed before turning to Cordelia. "At least you know what I’m talking about."

Giles coughed. "And where are the children?"

Kelly caught the hint. "They’ve been staying in the other room a lot."

"I think Nikki was watching them," Fred interjected.

Kelly’s eyes went wide. "Great."

As if on cue, Nikki made her way into the room. More than one suspected she had been eavesdropping around the corner the entire time. "Who are they?" She asked Wright as she walked nearer to his side.

He was still unable to speak so Cordelia gave the introduction. "Giles and Faith, meet Nikki. Nikki is Rosalie’s aunt." She left it at that. To her the woman was nothing more than that.

"Faith is another woman that has pleasured Wright," Kelly said brazenly.

The demon hunter looked at the brunette vampire. "What the hell?"

"Wow…" Faith looked to Nikki. "That’s got to hurt."

Wright blinked, completely unaware of the Nikki undertones. "Huh?"

The children chose that moment to come in and break everyone’s attention. At the sight of their Papa, both came rushing forward to the man. It was hard to tell who became more emotional in the exchange, the kids or the man who was trying desperately to hug the two little souls at once.

"You’re here!" The usually quiet William shouted for all the room to hear. "You’re here to make Daddy better again!"

Not even the hardest of people in the room weren’t affected by those words. Tears sprung to more than one pair of eyes.

Rosie was ever the voice of reason. "You can make him better again, Papa?"

"Aunt Willow is on her way," Kelly said, finally able to be a proper mother again. The sight of Zack had done more to her than she had realized. Her fear and uncertainty was replaced with new emotions. She was now angry and determined. She wanted her husband back; not only because she loved him so much, but because she was determined to make his soulful life a living hell.

Rosie was not convinced. She looked Giles in the eye. "Then why did you come and find us?"

He gave her a soft smile. He loved her so much and took secret pride in helping to develop the mind that made her so mature for her age. "I came to make sure your father doesn’t do more trouble than he can handle. We’ve got to keep him in check, like always."

This seemed to do the trick. Both children had countless memories of their father and Spike receiving lectures, either from Giles or their mother. While this was obviously much darker than any mischief the sire and childe had ever created in their exploits, the children could comprehend and appreciate their grandfather’s words.

"We should get to bed," Kelly softly said to her children. "Apocalypse or not, we need to get you back to a proper bedtime schedule."

As Kelly and Melody walked the children upstairs, Faith decided that it was time to get down to business. "Okay," she said clapping her hands together. "Let’s get this party started!"

*~*~*

Darla walked in as she heard him begin to rummage around. "You know, I’m getting a little jealous of you newest piece of jewelry. Aside from killing things, you don’t seem to want to be around me anymore."

Angelus arched a brow as he stood gaping at his naked sire. "You’re the one who’s been spending every waking moment fucking the newbie."

A smirk crossed her face. "Jealous are we?"

He smiled. "A man does have needs, you know."

She focused her gaze downward as she spoke. "And you look like you have more than many at the moment."

He smiled in reply. "Is there anything you have in mind?"

She walked across the room and kissed him, making sure that her hands roamed in ways that caused the male vampire to moan in desire. Then, as quickly as she began the exchange, she ended all contact. "Actually, I think I’m going to get dressed and go find some dinner. I’m famished and I figure if I don’t feed that one," she gestured to the room where Zack was resting. "He’s going to lose all of his humor."

With that she winked and bounced off to her room. Angelus was not nearly as amused as her. "Then why’d you just fucking tease me like that?"

"I always love to tease you," she called from the other room. She then poked her head into the doorway to look the vampire in the eye. "And besides, I figured that this would give you a chance to play with the newbie. Trust me when I say, he is way more fun than most." She gave a wicked grin. "And he’s on mute right now so you can go with limited interruptions."

Angelus smiled. "Hmmm…maybe you’re right." With that he walked over to Zack’s room. The young vampire was naked, lying sprawled out on the bed. He looked to be sleeping, but Angelus’ noted his twitch when the elder vampire entered the room. He had to admit, aside from the gaping wound at his throat, Zack was a nice specimen of the male species. He grinned as he thought of all the games he had been itching to play. "Wakey, wakey," he said softly as he walked over to the bed. "Darla tells me you’re feeling a little weak."

Zack’s eyes opened in question as the man looked over his body. He quickly searched for a sheet or pillow to cover his most-valued parts of anatomy. The torture session was still fresh in the young vampire’s mind. His eyes betrayed disappointment when he found nothing.

"Oh," Angelus smiled. "Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you this time. At least I hope it doesn’t hurt too much."

Zack hid the fear the best he could. Thoughts came to mind of many conversations with Spike. Conversations of the past and the vampire standing above him. This man loved sex. This man loved sex anyway he could get it. Zack…well as the torture session showed, didn’t really find things in his ass very sexually arousing.

Angelus reached out and grasped Zack’s cock in his hand. "You’ve been keeping Darla busy for a few days now." He began gently stoking the young vampire’s length. "And God, I’m horny." He gave Zack a squeeze. "So I think it’s time that Daddy got a chance to play with the new toy, huh?’

Zack stood still, hoping his lethargy was enough to bore Angelus into something else. He was wrong. Angelus took his hand off Zack’s cock and focused on removing his own clothing. "Trust me when I saw I’m a much better lover when I get a little cooperation. You better decide now, kid. Are you gonna get raped or are you gonna have some sex?"

Zack closed his eyes as he felt the mattress dip with the added weight. In a second he felt Angelus’ hardness press against his side. Still unresponsive, the man turned him over and pressed against his ass. _Oh fuck,_ he thought to himself as Angelus moved forward. _I hope this feels better than the ice pick_.


	18. Chapter 18

Josh was unusually quiet and compliant as the trio worked to place a protection spell upon the room. Within minutes the room was made safe from any interruption and Willow began contemplating how to best break the spell placed upon Sam. The comfort of protection against the demons gave Josh the confidence he needed to be obnoxious again.

"Can’t you just fly us all back to D.C.?"

Willow arched a brow. "I thought you wanted to help, Joshua?"

The man shrugged. "Just saying, you could zap the three of us back and then concentrate on the whole Zack situation."

"What about Sam?" Donna pointed out.

"Modify his memory and pretend nothing of this ever happened."

Willow scowled. "You want me to make it where he never met me."

"Just saying—"

"Josh!" Willow snapped. "I really do like him!"

"Look, I’m not an ass, but—"

"Yes you are!" Donna said reaching over to slap his shoulder. "Why don’t you want you friends to be happy?"

"I like my friends happy, but…I just don’t know if I want these two friends happy together."

"Do you secretly hate me?" Willow asked. "Do you think I’m such a horrible person that I shouldn’t even be given a chance?"

Josh blinked. He didn’t think that at all. In fact, he had always liked Willow…and her freakish magical talents. He just couldn’t let go of his political strategies and plans surrounding Sam and the White House. Sam was his last goal, his last chance to put a good man in the Oval Office. And it wasn’t nearly as much for the pride of winning that he was fighting so hard. The country deserved to have Sam Seaborn as the president. And Josh knew how hard it was to get a good man elected.

"Hate and horrible are pretty strong words." Yeah, he knew he was an ass, but it was too late to reform himself now.

Donna rolled her eyes. She had read every moment of Josh’s mind. "He likes you. A lot. He just wants Sam to be president because he’s that good of a man."

Willow paused. "I like Sam, Josh. I think he could be a good president and I don’t want to mess that up." She gave him a hard look. "But I also think that Sam should be in control of his life and people shouldn’t be trying to make those decisions for him."

"So says the woman who knocked him out," he said without missing a beat.

"Well…yeah. But that’s different."

Josh gave a smirk. "Because yours in a freakish rare talent."

"And yours is just manipulative." Willow sighed. "Let’s wake him up and see if we can break the mojo Wolfram and Hart worked on him."

*~*~*

No one seemed ready to go to sleep at the Hyperion. The foyer was full of life far after the time that the children retired to bed. Several conversations were taking place in various areas and it seemed that the lurking apocalypse wasn’t the only topic up for discussion.

"You should really get to bed," Wright frowned as he looked to his yawning lover.

She brushed his concern aside and looked over to Faith as she talked to Spike and Buffy. "So, gimme details."

Wright’s eyes grew wide before quickly narrowing. "No."

"C’mon, I want to hear about this wild night in Vegas where there was multiple hours of pleasure and ass-biting."

"Fine, then you give me a detailed explanation of every exploit you had before we met?" He frowned. "It was a long time ago, long before you. That’s it."

"I know," she said softly. "And I’m not upset." He didn’t speak, but she could tell the words had their intended impact.

"But you still want details," Wright concluded.

"Just curious as to how I rank compared to a Slayer."

Wright shrugged, dismissively. "I love you; I didn’t even know she was a Slayer."

Across the room, the Slayers and Spike had been talking about the business of keeping a handle on the soulless vampires across town. "He’s been chasing Darla for years," Faith shook his head. "And he still hasn’t got her?"

"Wright became a little distracted when he moved to L.A." Buffy said with a glance to Cordelia.

"How’d you two meet up?" Spike asked as he noticed a lusty gaze fill the dark Slayer’s eyes at the sight of Wright.

A wicked grin crossed Faith’s features. "Met in Vegas. We were both trailing the same nest of vamps that had settled off the strip. We got caught in the same fight and…" She grinned. "We admired each others mutual skills, if you know what I mean."

The couple had to smile. They did indeed understand how a good fight could perk up the libido.

"It wasn’t a ‘I’ll call you’ kinda situation. We knew what we wanted and went for it. It was good." She shrugged. "They say sex isn’t everything, but I haven’t found anybody to prove me wrong, yet."

"Yeh," Spike nodded. "Sometimes you just find it all."

Faith smirked. "Is there anyone here that isn’t all moon eyes in puppy love?"

Buffy paused. "Rosalie is way too young."

*~*~*

Sam awoke in the middle of the floor. Every inch of him was sore. As he stiffly sat up, he hoped all the memories of the afternoon were nothing more than a bad nightmare he hoped to never repeat.

"Sam?" Willow was by his side in a moment. "Are you okay?"

He rubbed his temple as his vision slowly cleared. "I have no idea what we drank at dinner last night, but let’s never eat at that sushi place again."

"Mmmm," Donna muttered. "Good sushi sounds good right now."

Sam blinked. "Donna’s here?"

Josh opened his mouth at this point. "I would say that we were in the neighborhood, but that only happened after Giles went all whammy with the teleporting."

The brunette man stopped to take surveillance of his surroundings. He was indeed back within the hotel room that he and Willow had rented once they made it to Orange County. Josh and Donna were new additions to the scenery as well as an array of what looked to be herbs and incense.

Suddenly he was very suspicious of his afternoon again.

"Sam?" Willow asked slowly. "How much of today do you remember?"

His eyes went wide. "You mean that it wasn’t a dream?"

"I wish," Josh murmured.

*~*~*

It had been quite a while since she’d been in a place to be in charge, or to give long speeches to a group of people desperately needing hope for a way out. Lack of practice had her feeling rusty, and their current success rate did little to help. Taking Kelly to a place where she and Spike had tacitly understood Zack could well be indisposed hadn’t been the best move. Furthermore, right now, there was no one in the world Zack wanted to turn into dust more than Kelly. Taking her with them had all but presented her to the beast gift-wrapped.

And yet, there was nothing that could be done about their circumstances. Sitting here and doing nothing wasn’t an option; neither was going back.

"It won’t be long before Zack’s back on the streets," Buffy said from where she sat on the check-in counter, her arm woven through Spike’s. Every other second or so, she would twitch with the need to pace. It was one of the many traits being mated to Spike had given her. However, Kelly knew her well enough to identify that as a sign of worry, therefore she was grounded on the counter.

Grounded insofar twitching, squeezing Spike’s hand, and banging her heels against the counter-side every few seconds.

"Obviously, we weren’t prepared to face them on their own turf," Buffy noted. "And while we have the advantage in numbers, we also have the disadvantage of…well…not wanting Zack dead. He doesn’t have that hang-up…as we learned."

Wright shrugged from where he sat between Cordelia and Kelly on the settee. "Well, if he gets stake-happy, you can just make him a mute again."

Buffy shook her head. "Nah, he’ll expect that."

"So stab him somewhere else. Tell you what, I’ll hold him down and you just go crazy."

Cordelia shot him a narrowed look. "Zack!" she hissed.

"What?" he asked, then frowned in understanding when she nodded at Kelly. "Oh," he said. "Right."

"It’s okay," Kelly assured the pregnant woman with a dismissive wave. "If he deserves it, I’m not going to throw a hissy."

"And survey says he’ll deserve it," Wright murmured.

"What do you suggest?" Giles asked softly, his eyes glued to Buffy. "I concur that fighting on their turf is dangerous, but there is little alternative. We cannot invite them in here, and I doubt they will attempt to attack us anywhere they believe gives us the advantage."

Buffy quirked her head. "Yes, but we have something they don’t know we have."

"What?" Gunn asked, his brow furrowing.

Buffy nodded to Faith, who stood beside Giles, her arms crossed and her head cocked. "We have a slayer Zack’s never met and barely heard of."

Faith’s brows perked. "Awww. You mean you four down chat about me around the dinner table?"

Spike snickered. "No, we typically have interesting conversations."

"Ouch," the raven-haired Slayer drawled. "Kitty’s got claws."

"No, you’re just not very interesting," Spike retorted. "The bad girl thing’s so bloody overdone."

"Point being," Buffy intervened, though she looked seriously pleased at her mate’s aversion, "Zack doesn’t know you’re here and he wouldn’t know you if he saw you."

"He’d know she was a slayer, though," Wesley pointed out.

"There’s no tellin’ that, mate," Spike countered. "He hasn’t been around a slayer who wasn’t Buffy."

Fred frowned. "Does that make a difference?"

Spike nodded. "Buffy’s a vampire. Vamps sense other vamps an’ they sense slayers. I can bloody well tell you, adding it together in my girl’s delicious package is somethin’ different altogether. At bloody best, he’d know there was something about Faith…but not cotton on until we had him where we want him."

"And where do we want him?" Wright asked.

"Here," Buffy supplied.

"Here?"

"In a cage. Or a cell. Or something. We want him here so he’s not out there, making things worse for us and himself." She nodded shortly. "We want him here so we can focus on him and not the deadly trio."

Faith seemed to consider this a minute, then nodded with an apathetic shrug. "Yeah, okay," she agreed. "I can swing that."

Kelly blinked. "Just like that?"

"Ain’t nothing much that can intimidate me," the Slayer replied, shrugging again. "Especially not some whiny little emo vamp with a sudden god complex."

The funny thing was she wasn’t exaggerating. She wasn’t, only she didn’t know that.

"There’s no reason to think Zack will be out and about anytime soon," Buffy noted. "Not unless Darla and Angelus are forgiving, and since that’s unlikely, I suggest we don’t apply much focus on a patrol tonight. Go out, but if we don’t get any leads, we can probably call it a night and put more energy on being prepared tomorrow."

Buffy didn’t take a breath until Spike’s fingers wove through hers and squeezed.

It took a second, but at last there was movement. Wright nodded stoically and said, "In the meantime, we can prepare the downstairs for holding Zack."

"You, me, and English can take care of that," Gunn observed before tossing Giles a skeptical glance. "Young English, not old and wrinkled."

Kelly scowled. "Hey!"

Giles held up a hand. "No, no. I have no desire to be involved in manual labor. By all means, leave Old and Wrinkled out of the equation."

"I knew my youth and vitality would one day backfire," Wesley mused.

"All right," Buffy said, slipping off the counter. "You three get started on that. Spike and I are gonna hit the streets. Faith?"

"I’ll do my own thing."

"He’ll want to be around women," Kelly said softly. "If he’s out, he’ll be somewhere where he can get laid. I know he has Darla but…he’ll want to hurt me, and if he can do it by sleeping with someone else, he’ll do it over and over again."

"So somewhere in Los Angeles where girls are easy," Cordelia mused.

"That’s not really a factor," Wright countered, glancing around quickly to ensure Mrs. Morris and the kids were nowhere in sight or earshot. They had long since retired upstairs, along with Rosalie, but that didn’t mean the discussion was safe from wandering children in search of a late night snack or a woman tired of entertaining kiddies, no matter how much she loved them. When assured the coast was clear, he continued, "Consent isn’t necessary, as Zack was so adamant on reminding me as he ogled my daughter."

"Nice brother you got there," Faith noted.

Wright merely nodded, his cheeks reddening. He was still not comfortable meeting her eyes.

Spike and Buffy exchanged an amused glance. "We’re heading out," the latter said again. "Faith, you might wanna hit a few night clubs on the south side. We’re going to do a basic patrol."

"Basic patrol?" Giles repeated.

Buffy shrugged. "Not much else to do. Not until Zack hits the streets again. Make sure the demon community doesn’t go too haywire in the meantime…and hope we strike a goldmine with what else Wolfram and Hart has in store."

There was little else to say to that.

"All right," Buffy continued, seeing no other questions. "Let’s go."

*~*~*

"Oh dear," Darla cooed, gently running her fingers over Zack’s tender and slightly bloody ass. "You struggled, didn’t you?"

Zack didn’t respond, though he felt it fairly obvious. Someone trying to push something into his anus, and he would definitely throw a fit, no matter how he vowed to himself to sit there and take it. There was no taking it with Angelus. The first time he felt something press into him, he’d bucked, and bucked violently.

The move did little more than make Angelus hornier. And with Zack’s throat in the state it was, he couldn’t even scream without dissolving in pain.

"Angelus is quite amorous," she continued. "Such a skillful lover."

Zack had a few adjectives in mind: skillful was not one of them.

"Is your throat still sore?" Darla asked. Not that it mattered if she asked; her wandering fingers found his ill-healed throat and dipped inside the wound without preamble. Zack hissed and thrashed, lashing an angry arm at her intrusion. "Hmmm," she mused. "I’ll take that as a yes."

If he’d had the strength, he would have staked her at that moment. The tenderness of her touch was without feeling. It was nothing but a mask.

Didn’t stop his cock from wanting her, just as she wanted him.

Her wanting him was a heady rush.

"I brought something for you."

Zack perked at that. The promise in her voice had his animosity, short-lived as it was, dissolving.

"She’s young," Darla continued, helping him sit up. "And though I couldn’t guarantee the real thing, I thought a look-alike would, for the moment, suffice."

She nodded to the form at the end of the bed; the form he hadn’t noticed and couldn’t smell, thanks in part to his faltering senses. A blond girl sat. She was Rosie’s age. She was Rosie’s age, Rosie’s size, Rosie’s height. She had Rosie’s hair. Hell, she even had Rosie’s eyes. And her hands were bound behind her back, a gag strapped across her mouth. Her eyes—Rosie’s eyes—were wide with fear, tear-tracks streaking her cheeks.

"She’ll heal you," Darla whispered.

A slow smile stretched across Zack’s face.

The girl must have recognized him for a predator, for she squealed and tried ineffectually to twist to freedom.

Indeed, this child who could be Rosie would heal him.

His body with her blood.

His mind with what she represented: the hope that the next time he fed off a young girl, the body would truly be his daughter.

"Mmm," Darla purred, nipping at his ear. "My boy’s hungry."

Truer words had never been spoken.

*~*~*

It took a full half hour to convince Sam that Willow, Josh, and Donna were not playing an elaborate hoax. More to convince him that Willow was not insane, instead perfectly serious, and perhaps telling the truth. By the time an hour had passed, he’d consented to the spell she wished to perform which would allegedly lift his mystical blindness and therefore convince him that everything they’d said was truth.

"You understand the ritual nature of this de-blinding spell isn’t helping your case," Sam noted. He sat cross-legged in the middle of a circle comprised mainly of crushed rose petals and cardinal feathers. Willow was in the bathroom, grinding more ingredients into a small clay bowl.

"I know," Willow said sympathetically. "I wish there was another way."

So did Sam. Had it not been for his utmost need to believe in Willow, he likely would have been on the phone with paramedics. Well, had Willow not jerked the phone from the wall and crushed it with strength he didn’t know she had. And there was the situation involving his cell phone, which, while not destroyed, was in Donna’s possession.

There was also Josh. Aside from Sam’s startling but desperate want to believe Willow, Josh’s panic about him believing Willow had done more to give the redhead credence than anything else. Josh kept mumbling things about forgetting spells and permanently deporting Willow to this school she kept on about. Had Willow’s claims been insane, as Sam’s logical mind was prone to believe, Josh wouldn’t be concerned so much as having a hay-day mocking her delusions. This Josh was concerned. He didn’t want Sam to believe Willow, not because believing her would make him insane, too, rather because believing her would open a dangerous window.

There were times when Josh Lyman was the easiest person in the world to read. This was one of those times. By desperately wanting one thing, he’d inadvertently sent Sam in the other direction. 

"All right," Willow said, traipsing back to the circle in which she’d placed him. Her expression remained sympathetic. As though she knew how much he wanted to believe her, but couldn’t—not entirely, anyway. Or perhaps she regretted the world into which she was about to project him. "Close your eyes, sweetie."

Sam looked at her a minute longer before consenting.

"Josh, Donna," Willow murmured, kneeling before Sam. "I’d like you to stand behind him…about three feet apart."

"Why?" Josh asked as Donna made her way over.

Willow tossed a slightly peeved glance over her shoulder. "Is ‘because I said so’ not good enough?"

"Watch it, Red."

She rolled her eyes. "Because three is a mystical number."

Josh sounded intrigued at that. "Really?"

"No. I’m pulling it out of my ass. Just do it."

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"Many, many things," Donna supplied, casting Willow an apologetic smile as Josh fell into place beside her. "Okay. Whenever you’re ready."

Willow inhaled deeply and nodded, dipping her thumb into the concoction she’d put together. It was a duel invention; Snape had helped her with potions, as her pre-Hogwarts experiments always ended up a bit wonky. For mystical ailments, such as blindness, they’d created and tested this, patent pending. She only hoped it worked.

"Remove the veil, so that he can see," Willow recited, smearing her concoction over Sam’s left eyelid before her thumb dipped into the bowl again. "Cease the wail, so that he may be…" Now the other eyelid. "One with the world, as it is intended. Senses returned, and eyesight mended."

There was little surprise when nothing happened. Many of Snape’s subtler spells went without fanfare, yet Willow was uneasy about the lack of bright lights or explosive realizations. Instead, she glanced up to Josh and Donna, the former of which was attempting and failing to stifle a yawn.

"Spells sound more impressive when they’re not in English," Josh observed. "The rhyming was off."

"You can imagine how much your opinion matters to me," Willow retorted. "Sam…open your eyes?"

He did, and like her, he looked doubtful.

"Anything?"

"No."

Willow worried a lip between her teeth. "Well," she said, "go to the window and tell me what you see."

"The window?"

"Just…for me?"

Sam stared at her a minute longer, then nodded and rose dutifully to his feet. He made his way across the room and, with a shaky hand, parted the blinds to peer outside.

Where a crowd of assassin demons had gathered around Willow’s invisible barrier.

Demons he saw. Demons which were real.

_My God._

It was real. _Willow wasn’t crazy. It was real._

"Oh my God."

"Sam?" Willow asked hopefully.

Woozy, Sam turned back to her and nodded. "I believe you," he said.

Right before he fainted.

*~*~*

To those accustomed to the dark, the flashing fluorescents of a hopping night club could be more than a little jarring. Even if such nocturnal creatures possessed rings that otherwise made it possible for them to wander around daylight.

The blood from the girl had done more than its fair share to rejuvenate him. Just hours before, Zack had been lying pitifully on a mattress stinking of Angelus’s secretions, dried blood crusting around the wound in his throat, feeling lower than he had any time prior. For all his resentment of Spike, and so much of it was truly deserved, never had he felt so thoroughly useless. So helpless. Never had he been resigned to a bed while a beast took him in ways he’d never before fathomed.

Not that Zack pined for the days of being Spike’s lapdog. These couple days under Angelus had simply been eye-opening. He’d been taken by surprise once, maybe twice, but not again. Next time Angelus came at him, he’d be the one taken off guard. For what Angelus had in expertise and experience, Zack had in youth and self-discovery. Furthermore, Zack was fairly certain he had Darla. Not once had the eldest vampire left his side, save to get him something to eat. Something young and fresh; something that would appeal to Zack’s need for the destruction of his former life. 

While Zack didn’t feel anywhere near up to full strength, he similarly knew that lying around in a pool of Angelus’s semen would do nothing to make him feel better. It was why he’d dragged himself to his feet after draining the Rosie look-alike. Why he was surfing the over-exuberant crowd at some nameless dive in a nameless corner of Los Angeles’s south side.

And something was _here_.

Something rich. Something dark. Something female.

Something he wanted.

Had anyone told Zack at the beginning of the evening that he would feel his dick stir at any point throughout the night, he would have thought it a sick joke. After all, he was not a fan of penises not attached to his own body, and he’d had his fair share of other men’s cocks for the evening. But this was different. It was warm. It raced. It thrummed along with the beat of the music, taunting him, calling to him. An ever-elusive something he couldn’t name, but wanted all the same.

It was here. Here.

Zack licked his lips, his face half-shifting. He didn’t want to alarm any of the tasty towners by baring his bumpies—not yet, anyway—but his senses were always heightened when he was closer to demon than man. His eyes darkened into a hard yellow, his nostrils flaring, his gums itching as the pulse driving him mad grew closer. Hot, sweaty human bodies thrummed around him. He was in paradise and Hell all in the same beat. She was near. She, she, she…

She was suddenly pressed against him. Hot. Dark. Wild, raven hair, a mouth to die for. She grinned at him as though she’d been searching him out. As though the entire evening had led to this moment. Her eyes dropped to the notable scar on his throat, and a brow flickered upward. A subtle sign. One Zack didn’t recognize but found somewhat curious all the same. Like she’d identified him based on his scar. Like she’d known he was here all along, and had, by the same fashion, searched him out.

Her words were equally curious.

"Didn’t expect you tonight, big guy," she purred, linking her arms around his neck, her hips swaying rhythmically against his. There was no hiding his erection from her, and even if there were, he didn’t care. This was a world without consequence. A world where he could have anything—anyone—he wanted. And he wanted her.

"Who are you?" he demanded hoarsely. His voice was still hard, his throat tender. The girl’s blood still working its miracle on repairing his broken body, though he wasn’t entirely certain his weakness could be attributed to Buffy’s stake. There was something so undeniably powerful about the woman. Something his fangs itched to taste.

The raven girl’s brows flickered upward, a devious smirk crossing her lips. She was like no human he’d ever felt. No vampire he’d ever fucked. She was a world apart—caught between realities.

"I’m no one," she replied, grinding her hips into his with greater force. Then she lowered her lips to the ugly scar on his throat and licked the wound. Unlike Darla’s earlier touch, this one did not inspire bloodlust, however fleeting. It inspired a different lust altogether.

"You’re lying," Zack replied, but he found he didn’t care.

He didn’t care about anything right now.

Without realizing it, he’d walked them into a dark corner of the nightclub, his hands tearing furiously at the clasp of her impossibly tight leather pants. No one wore leather pants anymore, but she did, and she managed to look hotter than hell. Hotter than anything he’d ever seen. She was dark, exotic; her hair briefly reminding him of Kelly’s, should Kelly be anything less of a mousy housewife and do something wild and remotely unpredictable with her appearance. Likewise, the woman had eyes matching Kelly’s. Her skin was pale like Kelly’s, but the similarities ended there. Where Kelly was petite, Raven was curvy. Where Kelly’s breasts filled only his palms, Raven’s swallowed his hands. Where Kelly’s mouth was colored a dull petal pink, Raven’s was ruby red. The color of temptation itself.

She was the perfect antidote to Kelly. Perfect in ways Darla could never be. This girl was human, was powerful, was wild. While her physical features in actuality resembled none of his souled half’s wife, there were enough subtle reminders—her hair, the color of her eyes, her height—to give the passable allusion.

"You gonna fuck me?" Raven demanded breathily.

"You want it," Zack replied roughly, tearing her pants down her legs until they bunched at her ankles. He wasn’t surprised to find her bare beneath the leather, nor was he surprised to find her wet and ready for him. In seconds, he was free, the head of his cock separating her vaginal lips. And then they were one, moving together under the lights, in a sea of music. With lights flashing and people dancing in a mindless mob around them. Zack fucked a stranger against a wall. A stranger who gasped and mewled, who bucked against him and scratched at his back. A stranger with muscles about which he’d never before dreamed.

"My God," Zack gasped, pumping hard into her. "Who are you?"

He had to know. He had to know before he turned her.

Before he tied himself to her for all eternity. He didn’t care who she was, where she’d come from, but if she fucked him like this for the rest of his unlife, it’d be worth a claim.

Plus, it’d destroy Kelly. It would absolutely destroy her.

Raven smiled seductively, utilizing those muscles again and nearly making him come like a fledgling. Then her lips were at the side of his throat, wandering up, her teeth tugging on his earlobe. "My name," she whispered, her voice soft and husky, the tempo of her voice offsetting the violent thrusts of her body. "Is _Faith_."

Realization was a funny thing, especially since once inside a woman, the male mind had little chance of operating as an independent entity. Zack knew he knew the name. It was too familiar to be dismissed, too known to be a coincidence. And as pieces fell into place, his cock plunging madly into the pussy of a woman he’d never dreamed of meeting, he realized why she felt so right. Why he’d wanted her from the moment he’d stepped into the club.

Why he wanted her now.

She was the Slayer. The world’s only living Slayer.

The second it hit him, one of the legs he’d fail to free from the leather pants suddenly wound around his waist, dragging him closer to her body, squeezing him to the point where pain transcended pleasure, and he realized what she intended. What she’d intended from the start. Faith was here because of him, which was why she’d sought him out. Whether fucking him had been in her game plan was a different matter altogether, but she didn’t plan to let him walk away.

She was here to drag him back. So that Buffy and Friends could stuff a soul up his ass.

She was merely unfortunate that she’d given him her name, else she might have succeeded. But it all made sense now.

And it made him crave her even more.

"Not so fast," Zack whispered, grinning into her throat when his fingers found her clit and twisted, eliciting hard gasp. Then she was moaning hard, her body spasming, drenching him in Slayer juice. No wonder Spike loved this. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Not in Kelly, not in Darla. And Spike had the best of both worlds—a slayer who was also a vampire. A slayer who knew how to fuck like a slayer while being a vampire.

It’d make for turning Faith all the better.

"Oh fuck yeah," he growled, his fangs skimming her throat. He didn’t know when he’d gone into game face. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was tasting her. Turning her. Making her his for always.

All that mattered was destroying Kelly.

He bit before he could stop himself, and the first taste of slayer blood nearly sent him to his knees. Holy _Christ_ , was this what Spike had _all the time_? No wonder he couldn’t pry his bastard of a sire away from Buffy’s pussy or her throat. Why had no one told him how wonderful this was. Zack moaned into her bloodied flesh and spilled himself inside her, his hold on her tightening. He drank and drank. Drank until he was dizzy from the high. Drank until he could barely feel the pain from his wounds or the soreness from his ass. Drank until there was nothing but her taste.

Which made the sudden, forceful introduction of his forehead into the wall behind Faith rather jarring. Zack fell out of her pussy with a startled gasp, the slam knocking him onto his back. It took a few seconds for shapes to make sense again, but when his eyes caught her, he saw her shaking hands, reddened with her own blood, hastily fastening her pants. The cool, confident woman who had seduced him faded. She was no longer a Jezebel, rather a lost little girl. A girl he’d fucked raw.

A girl he’d have again. And again.

"Awwww," Zack drawled from the floor, feeling more than just a little drunk. This Slayer blood thing was one hell of a high. "Don’t tell me you’re leaving."

Faith tossed him a startled look. Confidence gone. If anything, it only made him hornier.

"We were having such fun. Weren’t you having fun?"

A flash of anger colored her eyes, but she wasn’t about to do anything now. Nothing that would involve dragging him to the Hyperion, anyway. He was buzzed on her blood, of which she’d lost too much. She couldn’t fight him now.

"You dropped the ball, sweetheart," Zack announced, rolling to his feet. The pain in his throat had vanished. Slayer’s blood, and the wonders it did. "But thanks for the fuck. I’ll be seeing a lot more of you. I promise."

Faith just shook her head as though she didn’t understand, then disappeared into the sea of gyrating, sweaty bodies.

And Zack let her.

There was no rush. Next time he saw her, he’d twist her arm. Get her to see things his way.

Then make her his for always.

Kill a slayer. Destroy his wife.

Two birds, one very sexy stone.

He couldn’t wait.

Everyone had parted to their separate corners of the Hyperion. Kelly was perfectly comfortable with the chance to be alone with her thoughts. As she sat facing the front door, she began the slow process of mentally preparing herself for the moment Faith brought the shell of her husband back through the door.

She was okay with the atrocities he had thus committed. It hurt, sure, but she understood his need to be with another woman. His need to rid the traces of her love from his body and mind. In some odd fashion, she was flattered by the compliment. And luckily with the incident earlier, she was relatively certain that aside from adultery, he had yet to do anything too horrific.

She was still thinking about this as Faith came busting through the door. Kelly instinctively stood up, expecting the need to assist the Slayer in escorting her prisoner. Instead she was confronted with a bleeding and startled woman. "I think I need a Band Aid." Her voice lacked all of its usual fire.

Kelly rushed forward, ready to help. As she approached her senses screamed. Immediately Kelly understood too much. The neck wound was her husband’s teeth. The sweat on her skin was from her husband’s skin. She smelled her husband’s arousal drenched upon Faith’s body.

"Thanks," Faith said shakily. "I had almost forgotten how crazy a night in L.A. could be." She patted the stake at her side. "Good thing I always bring protection."

Kelly caught her off guard as she slapped her against the door. Faith was too weak and startled to react. It gave the vampire a chance to kick her hard as she lay on the ground. "You fucking little whore!" she hissed.

"Jesus!" the Slayer groaned as she struggled to protect herself. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Do you think this is a game?" Another kick. "That this is just another chance for you to come and get your rocks off?" She ripped her off the ground.

Faith had enough strength to not allow complete humiliation. As Kelly brought them eye to eye, the Slayer was able to land a punch to the vampire. As Kelly stumbled back a few steps, Faith took a moment to explain herself. "Look bitch, I’m not Buffy. I do my job _my_ way. I could kill your boy in half a second or I could stall to make sure I can figure out how his mind works."

"You mean his dick," Kelly snapped.

Neither woman had noticed the audience which gathered at the top of the stairs. Wright was unsure whether to interrupt or walk away. He settled for watching the scene for hints as to why Faith had returned alone.

"I don’t judge your job as _mommy_ so don’t judge how I slay." Faith slapped her once more. "Deal?"

"Don’t fuck my husband again." She once more thrust the Slayer to the ground. "Deal?" When there was no response, Kelly turned to walk up the stairs. She was shocked to see Wright gaping at her. The look in his eyes too closely reminded her of the man she missed. The man who was lost to her. The man who she was afraid she may never see again.

"Kelly?"

She stormed up the stairs, stopping only long enough to look him in the eye. "I guess she has an insatiable need for you guys. At least you can ask which brother was better, now. Since he tried to kill her and only lasted for half an hour, I’ll bet you were the better fuck this round." With that she marched on.

 _"Kelly!"_ Wide eyed, he turned to follow her.

"Hey!" Faith yelled as she was left alone in the foyer. "Don’t worry about me. I’m just gonna stand here and _bleed_ to death."


	19. Chapter 19

"Well, what are we going to do?!?"

Willow sighed. Yes, Sam was incredibly late to the game, but she was grateful that he shown up at all. "We’re going to L.A."

Sam’s eyes widened with terror. "We can’t go to L.A.! We have to get far, far away from here! We have to—"

"Sam, I have to go and save my friends."

"But can’t we just—"

"We have to save Zack," Donna interjected. "You have no idea how serious the problem is."

"He’s a soulless vampire who is out trying to kill his wife and children." Josh had no idea why he was determined to make Sam believe everything which he had been working so hard to make him forget. Possibly it was the fact their lives were in danger. Possibly it was the fact it was approaching three in the morning. Or quite possibly it was the half a bottle of wine which he had drank after dinner thanks to room service. Any of the options could explain it.

The women seemed to be of sounder mind, possibly due to their alcohol intake. "So what exactly needs to be done next?" Donna asked a pacing Willow.

Willow sighed as she sat once more on the edge of the bed. "I need to get through that wall, but…" Her voice trailed away. She wasn’t sure how she could break through the wall and protect three bystanders at the same time. "Maybe it would be best if I sent you guys away from here. Back to Washington perhaps."

"No!" shouted three emphatic voices. Sam finished with, "We’re not going anywhere without you."

The redhead turned to face him. "Sam, you have barely an idea what this world is all about and you want to run away. I _do_ know what this world is about and I know that it can’t be an option for me. I have to go on. You guys don’t."

"We’re in this together."

Three heads turned in shock to here Josh speak. He ignored their amazement. "I didn’t just touch a clock and fly through space for nothing. Now, I can call the fucking CIA if we have to, but we got to get you to that wall and make sure you can protect us in the process."

"Josh?" Donna was surprised his better senses were taking over.

He gave her a brief, loving look before carrying on. "But honestly, do you have any idea how to break it?"

"Not really," Willow said meekly. "The magic was so strong that all I can do is guess about three different spells that may work. I’m trying to decide who I should consult for help."

"Giles is who told me about Portkeys," Donna shyly interjected. "And I know he was on his way to L.A. with some woman named Faith."

"Faith?" Willow choked. Donna nodded. "Well this is just getting insane."

"Uhhh…" Sam was still gazing out into the night and the demons gathered below. "I think we may have a problem."

In defeat everyone rushed to the window.

"Well this is a whole new thing," Willow muttered.

*~*~*

Zack was juiced. He felt back to new with Faith’s blood running through his veins. And he was back to his original game plan. He slipped back to the hangout and was pleased to find neither Angelus nor Darla at home. He figured that he wouldn’t see Angelus for a while, but Darla would be back in his presence once sunlight came rearing its ugly head.

He really wanted that ring back. And even in his buzzed state he knew how hard that was going to be. Angelus was strong and old. But Zack knew he was surprisingly adept for such a young vampire. He had strength and skills that Angelus had yet to imagine. He also had a potential for evil which would surpass his great-grandsire. He doubted that a living Liam was capable of the murder and destruction that the living Zack Morris had committed in the presence of Lecter and Spike.

Zack walked over to the limp body in the corner. A wicked grin spread across his face as he picked up the dead flesh. "Poor little thing," he whispered as he stroked the blonde hair. "Don’t worry Pigtails, Daddy’s gonna find your mommy and bubba. Don’t you worry." Throwing the carcass over his shoulder he headed out the door.

Considering the late hour, it didn’t take long to realize that the hospital was going to be his best bet. He eagerly waited in the shadows as he watched the people go in and out of the emergency room entrance. He took his prior life as a father to give him a decent guess as to what was likely to occur. Some poor sap was going to come in at three in the morning panicking because Junior’s nose wouldn’t stop running. The picture he found around 4:45 was perfect.

She came out with the toddler and sighed as she bent down to check his jacket. In her sweetest voice she looked upon her son. "Now what did we learn today, Scotty?"

"Not to put things in our nose," he answered with a deflated voice.

"Right," his mother chirped before kissing him on the cheek. She then straightened up and looked directly into the darkness. Directly toward Zack’s delighted eyes.

Zack was giddy with excitement. They were perfect. The boy was the perfect size and hair color. The woman was a bit fleshy for his depiction of Kelly, but her mousy brown hair would work well enough. As he watched her move away from the light of the font doors, he could smell the unease and fear building inside the mother.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bus stop or would you rather walk?" Mommy asked.

"Walk," Scotty replied with confidence.

"Okay," she said gazing back to where Zack lurked unseen in the shadows. "But hold my hand, please."

They walked around the corner and onto the deserted street. Zack decided there was no better chance than now to make his move. Stepping into the light he followed them.

Mommy was startled when the man came from around the corner. She gripped her son’s hand hard as she quickened her pace.

"Excuse me?" Zack called out. "Could you help me out with something?"

The woman stopped and slowly turned around. "I…we really need to get home."

"Oh," Zack said in a mockery of innocence. "I’m just kinda new in town and am a little turned around." Despite the cheeky smile, the woman still seemed hesitant to come closer. "You see, my wife just had a baby and I have no clue where I’m at right now. We came in by cab around the front."

The mention of wives and babies had the intended result. "Oh yeah?" She smiled. "Boy or girl?"

He had her. A crazy grin spread across his face. He stepped forward. "A little boy." He began to reach in his pocket as he walked straight toward her. "You want to see a picture?"

"Sure." The woman was completely unprepared. Zack had her son in the next second with a knife to his throat. A scream began to sound, but was cut short by his threat.

"If you scream I will kill him in a second." She was silent. "Now follow me." Within seconds he walked them to a nearby alley.

"Please," she wept. "Not my son. I’ll give you anything. Just please…"

Her sobs were already annoying him. He put his hand over the boy’s mouth and nose and held it there long enough for the child to pass out. He set him down and looked to the woman. "Anything?" He grinned.

"Please, yes!" she cried.

Zack took his time as he raped her. He envisioned it was Faith as he mutilated her body. And at the very last moment he sank his teeth in a tasted her blood as he spilled himself inside her. Savoring the rush of taking another life.

The child was just stirring by the time Zack was finished with Mommy. Zipping up his pants he walked over to the boy.

Scotty whimpered when he met Zack’s eyes. "I want my mommy."

"Then let me take you to her," Zack said softly as he picked him up.

"Okay." The child looked convinced. "But you’re hurt."

"I am?"

"You’re face is bleeding."

Zack laughed as he held the child out at arms length. Then before another word could be spoken, he strangled the child. Enjoying every second of doing to Scotty what he had envisioned for William. 

After he was done and had three bodies before him, he gathered his kills and made his way over to the Hyperion. He was unbelievably proud of his creativity.

"This just beats the fuck out of killing some goddamn goldfish."

*~*~*

"Kelly?" Wright whispered as he made the way to her room. The door was in the process of being slammed shut by the time his arm made its way to the doorjamb. "Kelly, c’mon."

She quickly lost her fight and let loose her grip on the wood. Turning, she made the way into her darkened room. "She didn’t go out there to capture him, Wright. She went out there to fuck him."

"Yeah, I heard."

"And I know it probably made Zack giddy with joy to know he could let me know about the latest one he gave a ride to." She looked through the darkness at the man. "And I know she must be _tons_ more fun than boring old me."

"Hey," Wright said softly. "That doesn’t mean anything."

"But she just…this is for real. This is my husband."

"I know."

"This isn’t some game or pissing contest." Wright knew the jab was not exclusively pointed at Faith, but he kept silent. "Somewhere out there is my husband. In a jar somewhere. And in the meantime, his body is out there doing all sorts of horrible things."

"We’re going to find him."

"You don’t know him." Her voice was thick with emotion. "You really don’t. You’ve only seen one little sliver or Zack. And not even a very good part. You just saw the insecure little boy. Zack, he…" She took a steadying breath. "Zack is capable of such good. He really has a good heart." Her voice went lower. "But he’s capable of darkness too." With that, she sank down on the edge of the mattress.

"Tell me," Wright insisted as he sat down beside her. "Tell me about him."

She sighed. "I don’t want to give you another lesson on the prey right now. Just…just go ask Spike and Buffy and they’ll tell you."

"No," Wright clarified. "Tell me about Zack." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Tell me about my brother."

In the darkness Kelly turned to meet his pleading eyes. "Okay."

*~*~*

It seemed there was very little for which Buffy could not blame herself these days. Her eagerness to attack Zack and his new family on their territory had nearly cost them everything. By allowing Kelly to fight—knowing full well she could have stopped her if she’d chosen—could have easily utilized her power as sire to force the girl to remain behind. And now this—while she hadn’t been the one to recruit Faith, Buffy had allowed it to happen. She’d allowed a slayer with a history of going rogue and making bold, heartless moves on taken men to chase a vamp prime on destroying his wife. Tossing Faith in the mix without any sense of self-preservation had been foolish along the lines of introducing gasoline to fire.

Nothing surprised her anymore. After all, Faith had gone after Angel, slept with Riley, and likely had only refrained from making a move on Spike for the knowledge that they would both kill her if she tried. And to Buffy’s supreme satisfaction, she didn’t know what, if any, of Spike’s severe dislike of the rogue slayer could be placed on the fact that he was a mated man.

Still. The Good Samaritan in Buffy’s heart couldn’t sit blithely by as Faith bled to death. After finding a bandage and supplying her with ice-cream and orange juice, however, Buffy felt her good deed was more than accomplished. She could safely revert to hating the woman without qualm.

Something told her this was not lost on Faith. Namely the way the dark slayer’s eyes kept steady vigilance on Buffy’s ever move, as though preparing herself for an attack.

At last, a heavy sigh lifted off Faith’s shoulders. She rolled her eyes and planted her spoon in her half-consumed pint of ice-cream. "Are you gonna say anything, or just glare at me to death?"

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. "This really isn’t the time to provoke me."

"I didn’t go there to fuck him, okay? It just happened."

"Right," Buffy drawled. "Because you’ve never used sex as a weapon to hurt me or people I care about."

"What part of reformed do you not get?"

"The part where you’re reformed."

"You know what, B? Stick it up your ass."

Buffy chose to ignore that. "So, what? You’re telling me you fell off the wagon and onto his dick?"

Faith’s eyes went wide, clearly unaccustomed to anything resembling vulgarity on Buffy’s part. "It wasn’t like that," she insisted, though some of the fire had drained from her voice. "It just…happened. I saw what he was there for—I mean, it was eight kinds of obvious—and figured that was the easiest way to get close."

"So you’re a strategic planner now?"

"He was gonna fuck someone regardless!"

"Yes, but not someone Kelly would have to see every day! A faceless someone—not a whore who traipsed through those doors stinking the place up with Zack and sex all rolled into one. Do you know what you did by bringing that home with you? Do you—hell—do you _care_ what that did to Kelly? You played right into his hands—gave him exactly what he wanted." Buffy threw her hands up in disgust. "You’re nothing but a cheap trick."

"You got a lot of nerve—"

"And some integrity to go with it."

"Does it matter at all that he made me a fucking donor?"

Buffy slid off her stool with a grim, cold shake of her head, her eyes void of sympathy. "Not when you were willing. Not when your blood likely made what would’ve been a two-day recovery period from the stake I buried in his throat something that might leave a scar, if we’re lucky. You put him back in the game when we desperately needed him out. And all for, what? A roll in the sack? I have no idea what Giles was thinking by bringing you here."

"I’m beginning to wonder myself," Faith murmured. Then, with some self-righteousness, she spat, "I didn’t ask him to bite me."

A brow arched. "No? A night-club with a rep as a vamp hang, wearing a come-bite-me outfit?"

"Yeah, I think I’ll sit here and be lectured by someone fucking mated to the enemy. Need I remind you that your precious Spike has about as much soul as—"

A snarl tore through Buffy’s throat, the bones in her face shifting as her fangs descended. And the next thing either one of them knew, Faith was sprawled across the countertop, Buffy’s fingers perilously close to digging into her wounded throat. She choked and struggled, but made no overt effort to toss the vampire away; it would have been for naught. With Faith’s weakened body and Buffy’s double-punch, angering the Slayer-turned-vampire was likely the dumbest thing to do.

"Need I remind you," Buffy spat through her fangs, "that I’m already pissed as fuck with you? Bring Spike into it, and I might let Kelly finish what Zack started on your throat. Who knows? It could give her the _boost_ she needs."

From the doorway, a throat cleared. Both heads whipped up.

"Gotta say, luv," Spike drawled appraisingly. "You’re hotter than hot when you’re brassed."

Buffy held his gaze for a long minute before reluctantly releasing her grip on Faith. She watched through slanted eyes as the injured slayer sat up, stemming her desire to toss the bitch to the floor and really have at it. Or better yet, let Kelly have at it. However, the soothing presence of her mate did wonders to calm her boiling rage. "How’s Kelly?" she asked, forcing the brewing hostility aside.

"Wright’s chattin’ a piece out with her. Bloody doubt she’ll be down anytime soon, though from what I hear…" Spike’s eyes shifted to Faith, growing dull and even colder than Buffy’s. "He’s lookin’ to make you hurt, too. ‘S what happens when you go after family."

"Yeah," Faith retorted dryly, rubbing her throat. "You all are one big fucking Hallmark card."

"I’d just watch yourself," Spike advised, his arm wrapping around Buffy’s middle as she joined him. "We might need all the muscle we can get, but we also know when to cut our losses. You pull another stunt that hurts any of mine, an’ it could be we reckon you’d do better as a meal with legs rather than a soldier."

Faith blinked, her eyes flickering rapidly between them in search for some hint that they weren’t being altogether serious. No such hint existed. "Do even souled vampires get morally ambiguous when turned?"

"Dying gives you perspective," Buffy offered with a shrug. "You learn to see the big picture."

"If that’s the case, you must be rolling in it."

An unpleasant grin tickled Buffy’s lips. However, whatever retort sat waiting on her tongue stole away when an unwelcome scent hit the air. An unwelcome scent fragranced with the thick aroma of recently spilled blood.

Human blood.

Buffy’s pallor grew even more distinct. She turned to Spike, eyes wide. "Zack."

He nodded grimly. "He’s here…an’ he brought dinner."

*~*~*

Willow really hated the way Sam’s finger shook as he pointed at the congregating demons outside. Though their relationship was definitely very much in the early budding stages, and despite Josh’s adamant protestations, she’d already begun formulating ways and means of revealing her world to the man with whom she believed with full force she would spend the rest of her life.

A civil conversation in a quiet room, a healthy amount of incredulity, denial, and ultimate acceptance. Not like this. Not in a crowded hotel room while her friends suffered just beyond reach. Not with a group of assassin demons forming along the invisible wall.

"What are they doing?" Sam demanded.

"Looks like they’re paying for a pizza." Willow squinted and leaned closer. "No. They’re eating the delivery guy. Dammit!" She balled her fists at her sides before slamming them in frustration against the wall, making her three unplanned roommates jump back a good foot. "They’re trying to provoke me."

"Thankfully they’re not succeeding," Josh said.

Willow ignored him, her nose wrinkling in disgust as three vamps devoured some pimply teen in a tomato-stained work uniform. "Were we under any less pressure, I think I’d be flattered that Wolfram and Hart thinks I’m such a threat. But strangely enough, I’m just pissed off."

"How dangerous is she when she’s pissed off?" Sam whispered loudly to Donna.

There was a beat’s hesitation, then the blonde replied, "We haven’t yet figured out if she actually tried to end the world."

Sam gulped. Audibly. "E-end the world?"

Willow huffed and tossed Donna a narrowed glance. "Was that really necessary?"

"Well, he asked!"

"And you didn’t, oh, I don’t know, lie?"

"Better he find out now than later," Josh murmured.

Willow scowled. "I heard that."

"I wasn’t exactly whispering."

"Ball of sunshine could do it for the vamps, and I know of at least three different demon species suffer from a severe allergy to sunlight." The redhead turned to peer out the window. "All of which are down there. I might…oooh, I might!" A blast of warm energy exploded across her features, and with an excited wave of her hands, she rushed to the bathroom. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Sam and Josh exchanged a glance. "I take it you thought of something," the latter said dryly.

"I’ve been throwing fire at them," she replied, scurrying back into sight a second later with an armful of hotel soap and complimentary shampoo. "And it keeps them at bay, but I don’t have enough just—you know— _in_ me to shoot at them. But making a ball of sunshine takes a spell. A big spell. Thankfully, I think I can manage it with the supplies I picked up, but if I add an ingredient…or several, I might be able to harden the sunshine into concentrate."

Another blink. "What?" Josh asked. "You mean like…pure sun here on earth?"

"We’ll need extra, extra ultraviolet protection," Donna murmured.

"It’ll wipe out everything down there, and if I can focus enough energy on stabilizing the effects, I can put a shimmer over us."

Josh swallowed hard. "Do I even wanna know what a shimmer is?"

"It’d be enough to guarantee us protection while on the move."

"Wouldn’t having pure sunlight shimmer or—whatever—put others in danger?" Donna asked. "Not the least of which would be the four of us."

Josh’s brows perked. "I don’t know about you, but I don’t consider our frying to death anywhere near t _he least_ of anything."

"Not if the shimmer is in us," Willow retorted.

Sam paused in confusion. "Not that I…am passing on any judgment here," he said slowly, "but aren’t we going to _meet_ vampires? If…am I even following this?"

"Yes, we’re going to meet vampires. My friend, Buffy, her mate Spike, Kelly, and Zack, who I need to reensoul." A long sigh rolled off the redhead’s shoulders. "But the shimmer wouldn’t affect them."

"Why?" Josh demanded. "Because you say so?"

"No, brainiac, because of the rings."

Josh had the decency to look embarrassed. "Oh. Right."

"Chances are it will have worn off by then anyway. This will just buy us enough time to break through that wall without demon assassins attacking us every five seconds." She plopped onto the circle whereby she’d done the spell to remove Sam’s blindness and quickly began exchanging certain ingredients for others. With a deep breath, she took one of the bars of soap and began carving into one side with her thumbnail. "This will take me a little while."

Josh, Donna, and Sam traded a series of glances. "We’re not going anywhere," Josh said.

"Whatever you need," Sam agreed. "D-do you need anything?"

Willow met his worried eyes and tried to force a smile. She hated the fact that she was the one who had made him age fifty years in the time-span of just a few hours. She hated that he looked at her like he didn’t know whether or not he could touch her again—not out of lack of desire, rather fear. She hated that she didn’t know what was going to happen next, or what would happen between them when all of this was over.

"I don’t need anything," she replied, flashing a soft smile. "Just a little time."

There was no response. Just a show of nonverbal support.

This would work. It had to work.

She hoped.


	20. Chapter 20

"I tell you, the service in this place is for shit," Zack drawled, leaning against the Hyperion’s entryway. "All I need is a warm bed for the night."

Spike smirked, his brows flickering. He was propped against the same entryway door, safely on the other side, and though his customary impatience was egging at his psyche, he wouldn’t take the bait. "Don’ know how many times I need to tell you, mate," he replied easily. "We’re all booked up."

"Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure if you ask real nice-like on of your more single patrons would let me share…" His eyes drifted to the right, where Faith and Buffy stood at the ready. Well, one more ready than the other. His sire’s tasty blonde just looked uber pissed. "How about it, Faith?"

The raven-haired slayer offered a snicker. "Get bent."

"Oh yeah," he drawled, "just the way you like."

Faith snickered and rolled her eyes. "Gotta say," she retorted dryly. "Never thought a human would be a better fuck than a vamp. You really proved me wrong." A satisfied smirk stretched her lips as his face fell. "Your brother, though…mmm, mmm. It’s been over a decade and I’m still limping sideways."

A beat, then an infuriated snarl tore through Zack’s throat and he slammed his palms ineffectually against the invisible barrier. "You lying cunt," he snapped. "I felt you—"

"You felt what you wanted to feel," Faith retorted. "I tell you, precious, I’ve lassoed many different bulls, but only one ever made me want to go back for another ride. You just don’t cut it."

"You’ll be singing a different song by the time I’m through with you," Zack snarled, his fangs descending and his eyes roaring with fire. "Such a gorgeous vampire you’ll make…though I hate to think of your pretty skin losing its color."

Faith laughed. Hard. "You think I’m gonna let you that close again?"

"You didn’t seem to care how close we were earlier." Zack smiled nastily, his gaze traveling up the banister to the bend in the hall that led to the room he’d so recently shared with Kelly. "How was the homecoming? Did she cry? I bet she cried…smelling my cum all over this two-dollar trick."

Buffy’s nose wrinkled. "I really don’t know what it is with you guys getting vulgar when you turn all evil."

"Two-dollar?" Faith retorted with a laugh. "I doubt you’d wanna turn me into your eternal playmate if that was the case. You’re just peeved that your brother knows how to use his dick when you can barely find yours."

Spike rolled his eyes; Buffy held up a hand. "Can we please stop all the gross who-was-better-than-who sex talk?" the Slayer demanded. "Zack, you’re pathetic. And I don’t know what it says about you that every woman who’s thrown you a pity-lay since you joined the lost and soulless has done it to use you."

Zack snarled and beat against the invisible wall again. "Lying cunt!"

Buffy snickered. "That one’s stale."

"Darla is not using me!"

The elder vampire began laughing richly at that, earning little more than an angry growl. "Oh wait," Spike stopped, huffing a dark chuckle. "You mean you’re serious?"

"Darla worships me."

"Oh Zangy!" Spike broke out again, his mirth this time forcing him forward until he was bracing his hands on his knees. "I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize. I din’t realize I’d bollocksed up your training so bloody much. You really think that? You actually believe Darla gives two sodding figs about you?"

Zack again beat against the invisible wall. "Liar!"

"She’s usin’ you, mate."

"She worships me."

Spike blinked. "Right. She’s been hung up on Angelus for three centuries just waiting for some fledgling like you to show her the light."

"You saw us!" Zack roared. "You saw her riding me—"

"Ugh," Faith murmured in disgust. "I did Darla’s sloppy seconds?"

"Never said she kept her quim to herself, now did I?" Spike barked. "Just because she took you for a spin doesn’ mean she’s ready to cash in her chips. Neither of your new parents are much for fidelity, but when push comes to shove, there’s no one they love to fuck more than each other."

This statement earned little more than another temper tantrum. Spike and Buffy exchanged an amused, cruel glance and shared a chuckle. "Really, Zack," Buffy singsonged, her eyes dancing. "I was their hostage for weeks. Darla has her play things and she has the man she likes to play with. Angelus has and always will be that for her."

"You haven’t seen us—"

"Forget so easily, do we?" Spike mocked.

"We have. And I still mean to scrub my brain with bleach to rid the image of your small—erm—assets."

Zack snarled again, but this time, a cruel smirk played across his lips. "By the time this is over," he said slowly, "I’ll know what makes your pussy so fucking special. And hey, if you ask real nicely, I’ll let Spike watch." He tossed his maker a coy glance and blew him a kiss.

The words were obviously intended to stir a reaction, and though Spike knew he was playing into Zack’s hands, he couldn’t help the growl that tore through his throat anymore than he could help his fist from breaking through the barrier to clock his childe a good one in the tender place where his throat had yet to fully heal. The pleased menace fled from Zack’s eyes as pain took over, and with a howl he doubled back, fingers flying to his neck to ensure the wound had not reopened.

"Say you do," Spike snarled as he stalked forward, backhanding Zack before he could regain his footing. In a blink, he’d been thrown onto his back, and Spike’s heavily-booted foot came crashing down onto the young vampire’s throat. A screeching howl of pain ripped through the open air; Zack seized his sire’s leg, but Spike was unmovable. He held him there, beneath his foot, pressing down with every jerk, every struggle. "Say you get close enough to touch her…you’ll be fucking fortunate if she kills you first, mate. I won’ care then. I won’ care about turning you back into the pathetic yuppie you were before. I won’ care about the fact that their kids won’ have a pap, ‘cause heaven knows Kelly only stayed with you because she pitied your worthless arse. Replacin’ you won’t be too hard on her. An’ we already know the kids prefer time with their Uncle Spike, right? In a few years, you’ll be nothin’ but a bad dream."

Zack howled, his struggles intensifying. It only made things worse.

"You keep tryin’ to get us to kill you, an’ we might just grant that wish." Spike’s nostrils flared. He knew, of course, the real reason Zack was here. He’d known it before words were traded. There were bodies here—three, from the smell of things. A woman. Two kids. It didn’t take a mathematician to recognize what his intentions were. He’d come to establish a diorama of what Kelly’s future entailed. He’d come to throw his wife off her footing.

He’d come because he knew they wouldn’t touch him so long as there was hope his soul could be reached.

"You couldn’t!" Zack protested.

"Couldn’t we?" Spike replied softly. "Buffy nearly did you in earlier tonight. If I wanted, I could lop off your head with my bloody foot. Every time you try an’ prove yourself, mate, you end up hurt. Wonder why that is?"

"You were a lousy teacher!"

"Oh Zangy!" Spike slapped a hand across his chest. "You wound me with your words!"

"Teacher’s only as good as his student," Buffy agreed, coming up behind him. "Really, Zack. I’m sure Kelly will cry for you…but then, Kelly cries over the Head-On Commercials, so I really wouldn’t count that as a victory."

"Wow," Faith laughed from the doorway, crossing her arms. "I almost feel bad watching this without having bought tickets first."

"Here’s what’s gonna happen," Spike continued, his foot pressing down harder on Zack’s tender throat. "‘m gonna let you up. You’re gonna run back to your new mum. You’re gonna remember that every time you come here, you risk runnin’ out of free passes. I’m already well past the point of carin’ whether or not we get you back, an’ odds are Kelly’s wonderin’ what she ever saw in you to begin with an’ thanking her lucky stars she now has a reason to get a man with actual stones."

Another guttural snarl. More pressure applied. Zack yelped in pain.

"Get out, Zack."

The second Spike’s foot lifted, Zack scurried to his feet and disappeared in a dark blur. And then they were alone again, standing in solemn silence—Buffy and Spike doing their best to ignore the thick scent of blood hanging in the air.

"That was almost cruel," Buffy murmured, though there was no pity in her voice. Her eyes had fallen to the twisted gift Zack had procured for Kelly. A woman with dark hair, two dead children at each side. "But strangely, I’m okay with cruel."

Spike nodded grimly. "If we’re lucky, some of it’ll stick."

"Playing on someone’s insecurities always works." Buffy shivered, leaning into her mate for comfort. "I just don’t know how long we can keep at it without any follow-through. If Zack really keeps coming at us with this…"

"Why didn’t one of you two make to grab him?" Faith demanded, her hand going to her neck to feel her wound. "That was the grand plan, right? Make sure he’s chained up here so he’s not running amuck out there."

Buffy and Spike exchanged a solemn glance. "Things change," the former said.

"Havin’ him here is too dangerous."

"Not as dangerous as having him out there." Buffy sighed. "But Spike’s right. We need Willow."

"We need to clean this up," Spike retorted, gesturing to the macabre display. "Before Kelly—"

"Before Kelly what?" Kelly asked from the doorway, aiming a glare at Faith.

Then the scent hit her, and she saw it. And there was nothing but horrified silence.

Spike sighed. "Well, that was predictable."

*~*~*

While Spike’s words would likely follow him to morning, Zack couldn’t help but smile as Darla took him into her arms, allowing his head to find solace against her breast. He was tired—so tired—and he needed her like never before.

"Do you really need lessons?" Angelus spat in disgust. "You stayed to gloat. You never stay to gloat. I don’t care how fucking innovative your present was—that was about the dumbest thing you could’ve done, and believe me when I tell you that’s saying something."

"Angelus," Darla tsked, "be nice. Zack’s just a little new to the game, that’s all."

"I didn’t realize he needed a credit in Evil 101 before being let loose. Is this really the best we can do nowadays?"

Zack aimed a glare in Angelus’s direction, but he glanced away before the vamp could catch him. With his backside still tender from the unwanted intrusion, he didn’t particularly care to exacerbate the issue by staring the sodomist down.

"It was a wonderful present, my love," Darla assured him. "I’m sure mousy little Kelly will love it to pieces."

"You’re mothering the boy!"

"He just needs some TLC."

"Judging by the stink of slayer, he’s gotten more than some TLC for the evening." Angelus smirked and held out his hand, waggling his brows for effect. "Care to join me for a nightcap?"

Zack froze, but he immediately felt the shift. In a second, the air around him was cold, and Darla was at Angelus’s side.

"Knowing you, my dearest," she cooed, licking Angelus’s cheek. "It’ll be more than a nightcap."

"You wouldn’t have it any other way." Angelus tossed an arm around his sire’s shoulder and steered her into his side. He was good enough to pause and thoughtfully add, "Don’t wait up," before leaving Zack alone in the dark.

*~*~*

As dawn approached the horizon, Willow, Sam, Josh and Donna were making their exit from the hotel. Josh was able to procure a rental car in a timely fashion and they were soon making their way through the chaos of Orange County.

"This looks like a war-zone," Donna mumbled as they looked at the wreckage the demons had caused to the surrounding area.

"I’m sure the government has issued a state of emergency," Willow said nonchalantly. "They will tell citizens there was a chemical explosion and the visions of demons were nothing more than drug induced hallucinations."

"You say this with experience in your voice," Josh commented.

"Puhlease," Willow said with a flip of the hand from the front seat. "We’ve dealt with this sort of thing in Britain at least twice. Wizards are harder to cover up than demons any day."

"Umm…" Sam mumbled from behind the wheel. "Where exactly should we go?" He looked nervously to Willow. "The bridge didn’t work out well the first time."

"No, it didn’t." She paused. "Let’s try a different approach. What other roads will lead us up to the north?"

"Thank God we have the living atlas at the wheel," Josh sighed as Sam spouted off four different possibilities.

"Take us to the one that has the least amount of traffic." The red-headed witch sighed. "This could get a bit more interesting."

"There is a shimmery thing inside us," Josh pointed out. "We traipsing off to go rescue a vampire. Things are going to get more interesting?"

"Probably so."

*~*~*

Zack was watching the sun come up. As he sat in the cemetery, he knew he would need to take shelter before too long. The main problem was he knew no place to call home. After the events of the night, he wasn’t sure where his allegiance should lie.

As much as he hated to admit it, Spike and Buffy had been right. His standing with Darla wasn’t nearly as guaranteed as he had been led to believe. It made sense and he cursed himself for it. Of course he would have to earn his spot beside the oldest vampire on the planet. She had survived for centuries by taking on only the best of the best, and as impressive as he was, he was still a fledging in her eyes.

That still didn’t explain the fascination with Angelus. He cringed at the thought of the homoerotic vampire. While one of the nastiest baddies left in existence, he still couldn’t give enough credit to actually compliment the monster on his evilness.

As for his other family…the thought of going to them was laughable. Except for the part where he was beginning to believe Buffy and Spike could stake him. He had to admit, that made him respect the couple a bit more. Not enough that he wasn’t determined to kill them, but nonetheless impressed.

Zack had reached a crossroads. He fully understood the meaning of alone. There was no one else in the world to turn to and no one left to trust. As the sunbeams crept slowly higher, he needed to decide what course of action he was going to take.

The game was far from over and he was still determined to win.

"Without that ring, you’ll be ashes if you sit here much longer."

"I was hoping, Derek, you had just planned on stalking me," Zack drawled as he continued to look to the sky. He didn’t bother turning to face his father standing behind him.

"I was hoping you didn’t have enough feelings of humanity toward me to want me dead."

"The seven other men lurking around were helping to keep me in check."

"Six."

"Damn," Zack sighed. "It’s been a long night."

"Yeah, well…" Derek shifted nervously. "Why don’t we go for a ride?"

"What do you want Derek?"

"I want your help. I need the blood inside of Cordelia Chases’ womb."

Zack looked at him and grinned. "You are the worst failure I’ve ever met. How many chances have you had? Five? And you’ve fucked up every single one?"

"And you’re my son. The son of the worst failure. So how fucked are you?"

Zack’s eyes lost their flicker. "Touché."

"Come with me back to Wolfram and Hart. Trust me when I say this will be worth your while."

Zack shrugged and stood up. He had nothing left to lose.

*~*~*

Hunter didn’t know what aspect of the situation amused him more: the fact that the current apocalypse was to be thwarted by the occupants of a run-down hotel, or the fact that they attempted to carry on their lives in fashion that this situation was normal.

Around seven-thirty an SUV carrying father and daughter left the back lot and made its way down the street. Looking at his watch, Hunter grinned. Even during the midst of an apocalypse, Zack Wright had to make sure his daughter didn’t miss a day of school.

He could imagine the whining Rosalie arguing with her father. Evil was on the loose and they were all potential targets. But, Zack Wright would defend that another truancy on her permanent record was unacceptable. Harvard didn’t accept girls who fought vampires if they missed too many algebra exams.

Hunter looked at his watch again. He knew where the school was located and could predict how long it would take. He would go there later, but now was the time to check out the usual suspects—the demon bars and dives. This was the time for Hunter to do what he was best at: research.

His first stop was to the infamous Caritas. Always open, it was a constant hotspot for the underground. While the owner was unavailable, the bartender on hand was able to give light on the current situation. One hour and two drinks later, Hunter walked out knowing quite enough.

As he made way to the bar where a Slayer and vampire was spotted the evening before, he tried to piece together the situation. He couldn’t understand why Zack Morris had lost his soul. He knew that Wolfram and Hart had the capabilities, but he didn’t know why they had chosen him out of the vampires.

The second trip wasn’t as smooth sailing as before. He looked like an easy target to a couple of young vamps and spent twenty minutes taking care of unwanted hassles. The bartender wasn’t nearly as friendly, but a patron at the bar told the tale of the Slayer and vampire having sex at the bar. He was close enough to voyeur the situation and was proud to say he saw every explicit moment.

After the awkward encounter, Hunter made his way over to Glendale High. He figured a walk around the boundaries would give him an idea of how easy a target young Rosalie could be. He never imagined how lucky he would be.

It was obviously lunch time, as several students were scattered across the fenced grounds. But at the corner nearly a half black ahead stood a single, white female looking back at the fenced in grounds.

"Rosalie," Hunter whispered to himself, in awe and bewilderment. While impressed that she had the audacity to skip school, he was shocked she was willing to take such a chance when the stakes were so high and her life was in such danger.

Lurking about twenty feet behind, he attempted to look innocent in his stalking efforts. He believed he was successfully portraying an individual who happened to be traveling in the same direction as the girl ahead of him.

Twenty feet ahead was Rosalie, who was wondering who the guy stalking her was. Her first instinct was that he was a Wolfram and Hart spy. His frame and size gave the idea of an average human male. She figured unless he was equipped with the same drug used on her father or he had others ahead that would join in, she could take him. With a shaky breath, she made a quick turn down an unknown alley. If the man followed, her suspicions would be answered.

Pausing for a few minutes, Rosalie was comforted by her solitude, and ventured out to the street. She abandoned her plan of heading to her favorite bookstore and decided the Hyperion would be a safer bet. While she wasn’t scared, the perceived stalker was enough to remind her of her vulnerability.

Just as she was about to laugh at her suspicious and presumptions mind, she noticed the exact same man following her on the other side of the street. He was lurking about thirty feet behind her and pretending to examine a tattered copy of the LA Times. Her steps and breath quickened as she turned the corner.

Persistent to know where she was heading alone in the middle of day, Hunter pursued with every intention of keeping up. He saw her turn down a back alley and approached hesitantly. From the street, it looked to be nothing more than the backdoor to a pizza parlor, but he grew suspicious when there was no sight of the girl. Stepping into the darkness he was startled when he was tackled to the ground.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?"

"Bloody hell," Hunter grumbled as his face raked against the broken cement. His sunglasses flew several feet ahead. He felt the pressure on his neck and didn’t want to imagine what of Zack Wright’s arsenal was poised against his jugular vein. "Let me up and I’ll explain."

"How about explain and I’ll consider letting you up."

Despite the pain, he couldn’t help it. He grinned. "This is going to be fun."

"The only thing that’s going to be fun is hearing you cry like a baby for mercy."

"Honestly, while I understand your hostility, this would be considerably easier for both us if you would let me up off the concrete. I give you my word, Rosalie that no harm will ever come to you from my hands."

Any chance of release was gone in an instant. "How do you know my name?"

"Buggeration!" Hunter berated himself. He had no idea why the second he saw her he immediately began acting like an amateur.

"Wrong answer."

Hunter had every intention of explaining himself. Well. But just as he was about to begin on his eloquent speech he had concocted on the plane ride here, all thought left him. As Rosalie’s weight disappeared, he heard her groan as she hit the brick wall. Rolling over, Hunter saw three demons heading straight to the girl.

Growling, Hunter leapt from the ground. "Figures."

*~*~*

Twenty minutes was enough time to prove that breaking the barrier would be no simple task. Willow had already fallen on her backside three times and there wasn’t even a hint of a dent in the magical wall.

"Well, this sucks," Willow grumbled as Donna and Sam rushed over to pick her up once more.

"Please tell me that you have a thousand ideas and this is only the beginning?" Josh asked with uncertainty as he continued to eye the barrier.

"I have a thousand ideas," Willow said in exasperation.

Josh looked at the witch. "Seriously?"

Willow blushed. "No, not really."

The spirit of the group drop dramatically in that instant.

"Exactly, how many more options can you think of?" Donna asked hesitantly.

"About two before I’m going to need more supplies."

Sam looked down the deserted gravel road. "So, chances are pretty slim today?"

"I’m sorry." Willow felt like such a failure. Not only was she letting Sam, Donna and Josh down, but she knew that her friends in L.A. were anxiously awaiting her arrival. "I’ll send an owl to Hogwarts and see if they can offer any assistance."

Josh was never known for his patience. The stress of the situation only served to fuel his temper. He turned to the barrier. " _GODDAMIT!! What the fuck?!?_ _Fuck you Wolfram and Hart and take your stupid-ass magic wall and shove it up your ASS_!!"

His travel companions were silent for several moments. Donna was the first to speak. "Umm…Josh?"

"Yeah," he said deflated as he turned back to his friends.

Sam gave him a quizzical smirk. "Do you feel any better, big guy?"

"Do you think it wobbled for just a second?" Josh asked with all sincerity. "I think it might of moved for half a second."

"Yeah," Donna said sarcastically. "Because the barrier is just like everybody else. There is no magic that won’t back down to a stern talking to."

Willow grinned. She really did love them. Even Josh.

Josh looked sheepishly to the ground. "I just thought that…"

"That Willow’s magic was nothing compared to a good ole fashioned Josh Lyman tongue lashing." Sam was full of amusement for the first time since Willow had received that fateful phone call. "Josh, nobody doubts your powers of awe and amazement—"

"I do," Donna vouched with a saucy smirk, receiving a scowl from her boyfriend.

Sam continued. "But in this matter, I believe Willow is the one with the power to bring the barrier down."

The witch suddenly had a renewed energy to keep trying.


	21. Chapter 21

Breathless and sweating, Hunter and Rosalie continued to fight off the demons. At first more occupied with the young woman, the demons soon found both humans target in the alley. Between Rosalie’s backpack and Hunter’s messenger bag, they found ample weaponry, but struggled with manpower. While both had substantial skills, both were only human.

Rosalie had tackled one demon long enough for Hunter to race over and achieve a mortal blow, but he was left to pay the consequences as the other creature picked him up and slammed him against a trash dumpster.

Instinct told the girl that the man wasn’t nearly the threat she had originally perceived. While he was suspicious and possibly a spy sent by Wolfram and Hart, he didn’t want her dead. Yet. In fact, he seemed to have risked his own life in order to protect her.

The demon seemed preoccupied with ending the life of his male victim. This gave the young demon hunter just enough opportunity to whip out her favorite knife and go in for the kill. Jumping on its back, she took the blade and cut the throat of the monster. As it collapsed to the ground, gurgling in its final moments, it took one last blow to the girl. The kick sent Rosalie to the ground.

"Are you all right?" Hunter gasped as she remained on the cement, unmoving.

"I think it broke me," she croaked.

Hunter scrambled over to check on her. "Tell me where it hurts."

She looked up into his eyes and was struck by the genuine care and concern. "Who are you?"

Though bleeding and in pain himself, he was wise enough not to make any more mistakes. The Council would have him fired and eviscerated if they learned he was making contact with a Potential before her Calling. "Do you think anything’s broken?"

"My shoulder hurts." She shouldn’t trust him. She knew that. But she allowed him to pick her up without hesitation.

"We need to get out of here. The Kraylek said something about more heading this way. The Grongling just kept muttering ‘kill, kill, kill.’" Hunter paused as he sat her on her feet. "Can you walk?" She nodded. "Good." He then proceeded to grab their things.

"You understood them?"

"I’ve studied demonological linguistics most of my scholarly career."

"I made an A on my last geometry test," she hesitantly boosted.

Hunter turned to her with a smirk. "How do you get inside your school everyday with a medieval weapons chest in your book-bag?"

"You gotta know which doors to use."

"Apparently the same one you use to sneak out at lunch."

She paused. "How long have you been stalking me?"

"Honest to God, would you believe forty-five minutes?" With that he wiped the remainder of blood from his mouth and handed her bag. "We better go."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home."

"Where are you going?"

"Not home."

"What are you doing here?" She paused. "Besides stalking me."

"Not much of anything unless you count getting my arse kicked." With that he took her good arm and gently led her out into the sunlight.

"You never told me your name."

"Nor do I plan to."

Rosalie frowned, pulling herself away from his grasp, but still keeping in step. _"Who are you?"_

Hunter gave a small smile. "I’ll make you a deal, Rosalie." He took delight in the way his emphasis on her name made her snarl. "In due time, I will make sure you and I are formally introduced, no matter what the fates decide."

"What does that mean?"

"Telling you now would spoil the surprise."

She stopped walking. "Are you mocking me?"

Walking a few steps ahead, he turned to give her a boyish grin. "Yes, I do believe I am."

Rosalie Wright was much like her father. While she would take teasing from her friends and family, she wasn’t about to take it from a stranger. A stranger who stalked her and nearly had her killed by two demons in an alley. With a glare, she marched past him in a manner which made her feelings more than clear: leave me alone and stay away.

And while he kept his distance, she knew quite well that her mystery man followed her all the way back to the Hyperion door.

*~*~*

The look on Wright’s face upon Rosalie’s haggard entrance could be described in a number of ways, shock-riddled outrage nearing the top. He was on his feet in a blink. "Why the fuck aren’t you in school?" 

Rosalie drew a short breath an arched a brow. "No, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Thanks, though, for your concern." 

Wright blinked dumbly before he took in the rest of her. It was only fair. A blood-spattered Rosalie was cause for concern, no doubt, but nothing truly out of the ordinary. His delayed reaction was, therefore, understandable. Thereafter he wasted no time leaping to his feet, panic wiping his features clean. "What happened?" he demanded, storming forward. "What was it? Where was it? Where are you hurt? Did you—" 

"Maybe one question at a time, sweetie," Cordelia suggested, biting on her lower lip as she forced her feet forward. And immediately, Rosalie relaxed. While her surrogate step-mother was far from apathetic, she had a tendency to recognize that situations were often not as bad as appearances first suggested. "Are you hurt?" 

"Well, I don’t feel like running a marathon, but I think I’ll survive." 

Cordelia’s lips twitched. "You know what it was?" 

"Kraylek. And a Grongling demons." 

Wright and Cordelia adapted nearly identical skeptical looks and exchanged an equally skeptical glance. "So," the former said, very much relaxed now that he was assured his daughter’s head wouldn’t randomly roll off her neck. "You faced both a Kraylek and a Grongling and…you’re okay?"

Rosalie’s eyes flashed with indignation. "I can hold my own," she said, chin so high it nearly hit the ceiling. 

"Rosalie…" 

The sharp edge in her father’s voice used to make her crumble, but she wasn’t five years old anymore. A small part of her shivered, yes, but the rest of her hardened with determination. Wright wouldn’t intimidate her into betraying anything today. And for whatever reason, she wanted to keep mention of the tall, dark, and handsome stranger to herself.

At least for the moment. Though Rosalie wasn’t exactly a veteran, she was no doe-eyed novice, either. She’d been fighting demons her whole life in one way or another. Be it witnessing her mother’s death in Technicolor or watching her father train Nikki before ultimately planting a crossbow in her young, shaking arms and telling her how to hone her instincts so she’d know exactly when to fire. She’d clocked more field time than the so-called demon hunters she often met when scouting out demon pubs or on late night patrols through well-covered territory. Either way, she felt she knew enough to identify that while mysterious, the man she’d met was anything but a threat.

He was too sexy to be a threat.

As it was, her parents’ scrutiny was a blink in the past the next instant; Faith clomped loudly down the staircase, effectively silencing whatever Wright had been prepared to say. It was the norm now, it seemed. She had the power to suffocate the dead with the way she carried herself.

Which was, all things considered, remarkably well considering she’d limped through the front door bleeding profusely from the neck. With a grin Faith very much didn’t deserve plastered on her face, the slayer nodded and offered an abrupt, "‘Sup?" before she stopped short and did a double-take. "Whoa! What happened to Xena here?"

Rosalie arched a brow. "Xena?"

"Someone try to steal your lunch money?"

"She ran into a Grongling demon," Cordelia explained without turning around.

"And a Kraylek," Rosalie added, oddly defensive.

"And a Kraylek."

Faith looked in impressed. "At school?" she said. "Wow, things have sure changed since I hopped the fence. They have that sort of extra curricular fun and I might’ve lingered long enough to graduate."

Cordelia snickered, but Wright didn’t look amused. Instead, he whirled around and aimed another glare at his daughter, his expression molding into a _tell me another one_ glance. "That raises a good point," he said, crossing his arms. "Where did you say you ran into these demons again, Rosalie?"

Thankfully, she was spared an uncomfortable admission by another interruption. A worried-looking Buffy materialized at the adjoining hall on the second floor and leaned over the railing. "Kelly?"

Wright, Cordelia, Faith, and Rosalie exchanged a series of glances. "No," Wright said, shrugging. "Not down here."

The anxiety on Buffy’s face deepened. "She wasn’t in her room, either."

Rosalie frowned. Not that she knew Kelly very well, but that sounded on the side of incredibly _not right_. "Where are the kids?" she asked.

"With Fred," Buffy replied. "She and Wesley were going to take them to the new Muppet movie to take their minds off things."

"Even Rosie?" Wright asked wryly. "That girl’s too much like Rosalie was at her age. Muppets ain’t gonna cut it."

Buffy shrugged. "Fred was adamant. And given what happened…I dunno. I just thought Kelly deserved a break."

A break was the understatement of the year. Given the utterly fantastic way Kelly had shut down last night after seeing her husband’s present in the garden, there was nothing the woman needed more than a breather from reality. And while such things were not always, if ever, possible, the fact that Buffy was trying made her even more wonderful in Rosalie’s eyes.

"I wouldn’t worry," Cordelia said, her brows furrowing empathetically. "She probably took her break somewhere away from here."

"Yeah." Spike strolled out of the shadows and assumed a place at Buffy’s side. "That’s what’s eatin’ at me."

"Instead of your wife, you mean?" Faith snickered. Everyone ignored her.

Wright frowned. "How you figure?"

"If she went for a breather, she did it in the wrong way." Spike braced his arms against the railing. "Buffy’s crossbow’s missing."

*~*~*

The thought alone gave her the willies, but she didn’t dare betray herself. She couldn’t. As it was, they had run out of options, and she lacked the willpower to continue drawing upon the things she knew, combining them in different ways and hoping a new product emerged from her efforts. The truth of the matter was they were running out of time. Severely out of time. And Zack couldn’t wait much longer.

None of them could.

Of course, to even consider doing what she was considering doing, Willow needed to confront an ugly part of her maybe-past. She was terrified of becoming what she’d been—what she’d nearly allowed consume herself. Granting the idea that she had indeed nearly destroyed the world, which was currently up for grabs. There was every chance no world-endage, or potential world-endage, had ever flared from her dainty but powerful fingertips.

Evil only spawned more evil, but Willow wasn’t looking to take down Wolfram and Hart with what she was considering. Just fire enough sparks to take down the wall.

Still, memories of the black-haired baddie, fabricated or not, were enough to lend anyone pause.

What if she couldn’t control it? What if she became the problem instead of solving it?

 _I can control it._ She and Snape, under Dumbledore’s supervision, had been working on techniques through which to stifle the immediacy of her dark side when it was provoked. Perhaps she could rein in the beast should it come to close to unleashing altogether.

There was also the memory—or false memory—of attacking Glory in her penthouse. She’d used the same magicks she digested when Tara did or did not die, and she’d retained herself.

It had also initiated a slippery slope into which she might never have recovered were it not for her friends and the magicks learned at Hogwarts.

"I don’t like that look on your face," Donna said speculatively, jarring her from her reverie.

Willow jerked back to herself and offered a calm smile. Sam and Josh had ventured up the road to retrieve snacks from a convenient store. Every few seconds, she’d aim another wave of her strongest stuff at the wall to little avail. It had been genuine at first, but had since fizzled into something to distract her traveling companions as her mind entertained darker alternatives.

Donna wasn’t fooled. "Tell me what you’re thinking."

It would have been easy to lie, but Willow didn’t feel like lying. If she was going to go all black-eyed and evil, the least she could do was tell the truth.

"There are other ways of getting through the wall," she began slowly. "Ways that…I haven’t tried."

"And I take it by the fact that you haven’t tried it that it’s a very bad idea?"

"Very bad," Willow confirmed.

"Then drop it."

"I might not have a choice."

Donna worried a lip between her teeth. "We’ll get through the wall."

"Through trial and error?"

"You’d be amazed at how often that works."

"Yeah. This is me…amazed." Willow inhaled sharply. "Look, it might not be a horrible idea."

Donna didn’t look convinced. "But on the other hand?"

"It could bring about the end of the world."

"Then I vote no."

"It might be our best bet."

"Anything that involves the apocalypse is never a best bet."

Willow sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I might be able to control it."

"And you might not."

"And that’s where you come in."

Donna’s eyes widened. "Oh boy oh boy, I am not loving the sound of this."

"If I do this and I go all…evil…" Willow sighed again. "I’ll need to make one, and it’ll take time…but it’s a gem Dumbledore taught me to fashion from practically nothing. And it’ll stop me."

"Do I want to know how?"

What she would give for a poker face, no matter her determination to remain honest. "Not really."

"Then forget it."

"Donna, if I do it, you won’t have a choice."

"Then don’t do it."

Willow fidgeted. She never had been good at getting tough. "You won’t have a choice in that, either."

"You know what?"

"You don’t like me very much right now."

"That’s right."

She shrugged, trying to look cavalier. It didn’t work. "I haven’t made up my mind yet."

"Willow—"

"Just be wary. If I make it, you might have to use it." Willow glanced up; Sam and Josh were in the distance, their arms full with food in plastic wrappers. She grinned.

At the very least, she could enjoy something to eat before arriving at a final decision.

And hopefully buy some time to talk herself out of it.

*~*~*

"Haven’t heard much from your toy in the past few hours," Angelus observed from where he sat, head in Darla’s lap. "Is it too much to hope that you tired of him and scattered him across the floor?"

Darla smiled softly, fingering Angelus’s forehead with softness that betrayed her true ferocity. "He’s probably thinking of ways to—"

"Further his humiliation?"

"I was going to say make an even larger impact on his friends."

"Same difference. I will grant Spike this…he knows how to play the game, even if he fucked himself over by mating a slayer." Angelus twisted in his sire’s arms, burying his nose in her crotch. "He might not have the balls to end it right off, but he will end it if Zack keeps fucking with him."

"The further they fall from the tree, the more spineless they become," the blonde vampire mused. "Then again, how much can we expect from someone Dru thought would be her savior?"

"Obviously more than the kind of trash we pick up off the streets."

"Ahh, don’t be so hard on Zack." Darla grinned and leaned back. "He’s young and idealistic. You were once, too, you know."

"Everyone was idealistic during the French Revolution."

"He’s testing his wings."

"And my patience."

Darla chuckled. "Not hard to do."

There was a beat. Angelus stilled, sliding his hands under her thighs. "Do you smell that?"

The comment earned him a slap. Understandable, considering he was nose-deep in her pussy. "You’re a pig."

"You love it." He grinned and glanced up, though only briefly met her eyes. "But that’s not what I meant. I—"

A shriek and a hiss split through the air. Something shattered and then the room was engulfed in flames, just before an arrow from a stolen crossbow splintered through Angelus’s shoulder, eliciting a scream that made the walls shake.

*~*~*

"Where do you think she went?"

Buffy met Wright’s gaze with a long, wry glance. "Where do you think she went?"

"By herself?"

"Kelly wouldn’t do that," Wesley objected. Never before had Wright seen a man look more relieved to be interrupted in a movie than Wesley…that was until the circumstances were made clear. "She’s too…"

"You’d be surprised what grief can do, mate," Spike observed, sharing a long glance with Buffy.

"But why now?"

Spike shrugged. "Why not now?"

"Why not when she feels pushed to the very limit?" Buffy concurred.

"Last night pushed her to the limit?" Gunn asked.

Wright was looking ahead. "Don’t question it, just go."

"What happens when we get there?"

Buffy delivered Gunn a long, hard look. "We grab her and get out. There’s only two ways this can go down. One: she’s successful and ends up killing everyone, including Zack and therefore destroying herself in the process. Or…" She paused. "She just makes…Angelus doesn’t like surprises, and my money’s on them not being Zack’s favorite thing in the world, either."

"Whatever Zangy’s got up his sleeve might hit paydirt," Spike confirmed.

Wright nodded shortly, his eyes growing distant. "Then why aren’t we running?"

*~*~*

Zack was filled with regret as he walked the halls of Wolfram and Hart to meet the infamous Lilah Morgan. The name alone was a symbol of evil in its truest form and he didn’t like the perception that he was a conformist. Rebels such as Angelus and Darla were sure to frown upon the usage of an organization so traditional it seemed to create the idea of sin.

His mood perked up slightly at the sight of the attorney. She didn’t have a bookish quality about her and she was dripping in confident sexuality. "Gentlemen, let’s get down to business," were her first words as Zack and Derek walked through the office door.

"She isn’t one for foreplay, is she?" Zack teased as he sat himself down in a chair.

Derek shifted uncomfortably as he took his seat. Being in Wolfram and Hart had seemed to zap the man of every bit of confidence and self-worth. A sight so unusual for Zack to ever see, but one which filled the vampire with delight. "Ms. Morgan isn’t one for interruptions."

"Well, I’ll try to make it worth your while," Zack said with a cheeky smirk and a wink.

"I doubt that," Lilah remarked dryly as she took her seat. Clearing her throat she began. "I presume Derek explained to you why you are here."

Zack arched a brow as Derek nervously twitched and focused his gaze on a book sitting on an obscure shelf. "Not so much," the vampire supplied. "He begged me for help and I figured it could be more amusing than killing him."

"How charitable of you," she said without missing a beat.

"I try."

"I doubt that, too." Before the vampire could give her another quip, she continued. "We’re contacting you because we believe you will be able to help Wolfram and Hart, as well as Derek, to complete an outstanding contract."

"You mean the Morris virgin blood thing?"

"Exactly."

"Why should I?"

While Derek looked flustered at the question, Morgan was prepared. "For one, you owe Wolfram and Hart for freeing you from that pesky little soul."

Zack’s eyes lit up. "Really? Well, thank you so very much from the bottom of my unbeating heart but—"

"Second," Morgan continued. "Is the fact that in achieving our contract goals, you too will be able to fulfill your…desires."

Zack was intrigued. "So, if I guarantee you Cordy’s womb, you’ll help me get rid of the Hyperion Brat Pack?"

Morgan gave a sly smile. "If you can guarantee us Cordelia Chase alive and pregnant, we will work adamantly to help you eliminate every single resident of the Hyperion."

"What’s the catch?"

"We understand the desire to use more…unique and unconventional approaches, but we find that these have regularly led to disappointment. And this contract demands fulfillment." She cast a cold hard gaze at Derek. "And it will be completed before the end of the month."

"Zack," Derek pleaded. "Will you just—"

The vampire held up a hand. "Don’t. More begging is going to make me change my mind. But I have to say that I like this plan. Snatching Cordy will destroy Wright and his little lackeys. Then, being able to use some W&H backbone to stick it to Spike and Saint Buffy will be a dream."

"Trust me when I say that eliminating this group from the radar has long been a Wolfram and Hart objective. While many steps have been taken to ensure this, your help will do well to speed up the company’s efforts."

"So it’s settled?" Derek asked.

"Mr. Morris? Are you interested in offering your services to Wolfram and Hart?" But before Zack could answer, the phone on Morgan’s desk sounded a shrill ring. "Hello? Really? Interesting." The woman allowed a low chuckle as she placed the phone back on the receiver. "Seems your little wife has taken a turn. At this moment she’s setting fire to your lair."

Shock overcame both men. It was moment where father and son truly stood side by side and showed their similarity; one of the only similarities they had left to possess. "Kelly?"

Morgan smiled as she looked at Zack. "Indeed. But before you go and deal with the situation, Wolfram and Hart would like a confirmation of your services."

Zack arched a brow. "Bring you Cordy and you’ll what?"

"Bring us Cordelia Chase while she still is impregnated with Zack Wright’s child and the company will assist you in your destruction of your previous allies."

"Something else that you guys want done."

"Obviously."

Zack folded his arms. While he was itching to go see what Kelly had done, he knew the sunlight would be a barrier to any real investigation. "So you’re basically saying that you need me. Why should I—"

"Mr. Morris, let me make a few things clear. We revoked your soul. We have taken the measures to guarantee that repossession will not be brought by outside forces. And we hold the resources to destroy you at any given second. We just believe that the situation purposed would make things easier and more enjoyable for us all."

Zack took a moment to consider his options. He would admit to only himself a new fear where Wolfram and Hart would resoul him. That was the last thing he wanted. So, if he had to help them do something, he also wanted done…so be it. He wasn’t a lackey or a wanker, but he knew when he was being cornered. And W&H was giving him one option: help them or go back to the Land of The Pathetic. "Fine. But do you guys have any ideas on how I’m going to bring out the elusive Cordy Chase-Wright? They’re pretty wise to the idea and have her locked up in the confines of the Hyperion."

"Actually, we’ve thought about that, too," Lilah said with a saucy smirk.


	22. Chapter 22

As Kelly watched the smoke turn into flames, an excess of emotions stormed her soul. She had no idea what Zack was capable of, but she knew it was dark. He had always possessed a streak of black even when he was bathed in white. Now that he had slipped away from her and his soul, even the evilest of fantasies weren’t out of the realm of possibility.

She knew last night was a test. Those innocent bodies which were laid across the ground before her was a direct message: _Kelly, can you do it?_

And she could. She could do it for her children, for her friends that were suffering nearly as much as her. She could do it for all the innocents in the world who could potentially be saved from the wrath of a young, but thoroughly evil vampire.

But she wasn’t doing this for herself. She couldn’t. That’s why she had chosen not to face him. Zack was too much a part of her and she wasn’t sure she could wholly survive without him by her side. The journey they had begun on that fateful night so long ago was the start of a new life and identity, one where she didn’t think she could exist without Zack.

"So you’re the bitch who shot me in the arm," a voice snapped behind her.

Kelly whirled around, but the crossbow remained at her side. Her shock quickly turned to irritation. She had wanted him dead even more than he husband. "So you’re the one who’s wearing the ring."

A twinkle came to his eye. "This baby is awesome," he wiggled his hand in the air. "You infants have no idea how to live as vampires. You prance around with your rings and souls and families and then call yourself vampires. You have no idea how we live."

"Maybe," Kelly granted. "But I wouldn’t change a thing." With that, she briefly looked back at the flaming building.

"Darla made it out safe," Angelus offered. "But Zack—I haven’t seen Zack since the flames broke out."

The souled vampire knew better but couldn’t stop a brief flash of fear from coming across her eyes. Angelus chuckled. "Wasn’t that what you wanted? A Get Out of Divorce Free card?"

Kelly started to raise the crossbow. "Not nearly as much as I would love to see how much dust you can make. Maybe this time I won’t miss my mark." 

"Honey, trust me when I say I can kill you way faster than you can aim that bow."

"Trust me when I say I wouldn’t mind trying."

Angelus feigned a look of innocence and sadness. "But those poor little babies. Who would look after them without you? I guess they would legally go to live with Daddy. And no doubt Zack would take care of them." He relished the anger in her eyes. The fact that he enraged her, but she had enough discipline to not take the first move captivated him. "And I’m sure he would _take care of them_ , Kelly."

"Neither you or Zack will ever hurt my children." She said with cold, calm certainly.

"Hey," Angelus in a lighter tone. "Have you ever thought about losing the whole soul thing?"

Kelly blinked. "What?"

The soulless vampire shrugged airily. "I don’t know. Something about the look," he gestured at her decked in black workout gear. "And the skills you had to learn from your sire." He paused. "By the way, you totally got the more competent sire of the two. Your hubby reeks of _Spikeness_."

"Your point?" Kelly growled.

"I just think you would be hot if you let go of all the lame emotional shit."

Kelly shifted her position to make access to the stakes in her back pocket more available. "Well, thanks, but I’m pretty content with myself."

He wanted her now. He wanted to hear her scream for mercy. He wanted to rape her until she died—or would die if she was alive. He wanted to torture her until nothing remained of her spirit but a shell of her former self. And he wanted to do it before Zack Morris could. Angelus took a dangerous step toward her. "I have an idea."

"So do I." Her right hand moved suspiciously to reach for whatever was behind her and gave Angelus another opportunity to see the glimmering stone on her finger. A stone identical to his.

 _Perfect!_ Angelus thought. _Killing her would give me a ring for Darla_. He was still fanaticizing about this new scenario as he continued his approach on Kelly. "You know what they say. Once you go bad, you never go back."

"I’m sure you’re bad in a number of ways," Kelly snapped as she reached for a stake.

"I wouldn’t do that if I was you," he sneered as he closed the distance between them in a flash.

Before either could react the air was filled with a crack and Angelus flew to the ground. Kelly met in Angelus’ place a pair of fiery blue eyes, ablaze with anger and concern. "What the hell are you doing?"

Kelly blinked before she realized where she was and what she was doing. Then with a heaving sigh of relief and guilt she gazed into Spike’s eyes. "Honestly, I thought I was helping." And with that she turned her attention back to the fire.

*~*~*

"So, can you understand now why I was a little nervous about you meeting Willow?" Josh asked with a mouthful of Cheetos.

"I can understand your reasoning, but I still think you were wrong," Sam said between sips of his grape flavored Slushy. "I’m an adult, Josh. You can’t keep dictating what I do with my life."

"You do know that she’s a mega-witch and everything becomes unbelievably crazy whenever she’s in close proximity."

"But she’s amazing!" Sam gushed as he looked over at the redhead, who was far from earshot. "And though we barely know each other, there seems to be this…this chemistry between us that…"

"Look," Josh sighed. "I like Willow. I do. But once this physical thing wears off, you’re going to remember that this isn’t a normal girl. You’re going to remember the days of the Laurie scandal with a fondness which you never thought possible. And then one day, you’re going to wake up twenty years from now and turn on the T.V. to see some shmuck running the country and ask yourself why you let that chance slip away."

"Josh—"

"You always said I had a horrible poker face. I do. And you always told me that I had a good sense about these things. There aren’t very many people in this world that I believe has the divine talent to run this country. In all my life I’ve met three. I’ve met three and it’s been a miracle getting two of them elected. I will regret it for the rest of my life if you don’t let me help you."

Sam swallowed hard. Sincere words from Josh were a rarity to say the least. It was in these moments he was proudest to call Josh Lyman his best friend. And like usual, their most touching moments were absorbed, cherished and then deflected with some useless ploy toward smartass comedy. "So," Sam said looking over to where Donna and Willow were in tense conversation. "Do you think that Donna could be a witch?"

Josh looked in the same direction and shrugged. "She always says I can be anything I want when I grow up. Why can’t she?"

*~*~*

Zack couldn’t stop laughing. Granted, he wasn’t trying hard to contain himself, but that didn’t seem to matter much at the moment.

"Let me know when you get over your amusement."

"Okay," the vampire said through his hearty guffaws. "Oh, I think I’m going to cry."

"Do vampires have the ability to cry?" Derek Morris asked, seemingly as a reminder that he was still present.

"Apparently with laughter," Lilah said with no enjoyment in her tone.

"Look," Zack said in an attempt to regain his composure. "I give Wolfram and Hart all the awards in the world for creativity."

"Are you saying you aren’t capable of work with this degree of difficulty?" Zack’s snickers died immediately. And though Morgan saw the yellow flash across his eyes, she continued on. "We must have misunderstood your capabilities Mr. Morris, but I was under the impression that you had some sort of elevated skills due to your placement in the Order of Aurelius."

"Hold the fuck on," Zack snapped. "Don’t play me bitch with these little mind games. I know the only reason you’re begging me for help is because you’ve tried all your options and I’m the last one."

"Excuse me, Mr. Morris but I—"

"You think it’s that easy?" He raised his voice to a shrill octave to mimic her. "Wolfram and Hart have contemplated the best strategy for the situation. If you can distract the others by killing one or both of the Slayers in the group, we believe we will be able to obtain Ms. Chase while they are otherwise occupied."

Morgan was losing her patience. "The idea is—"

"That I do all the dirty work you guys haven’t been able to get done. That I’ll play your fucking pawn because you’re hanging my soul over my head."

"The choice is yours. Either work with us and add a couple coveted Slayer notches to your belt or go back to the land of the soulfully inclined."

The choice was easy, even for Zack. He sighed. "Buffy won’t be that easy. This Faith chick, maybe. She doesn’t know my fighting style and rumor has it she’s been in Watchers Anonymous meetings."

"With the power of Wolfram and Hart, you’ll be able to accomplish a great deal."

"You better hope so because these guys can bring more than you bargain for. I know, I’ve been there and seen how it goes."

A wicked grin spread across Morgan’s face. "That’s exactly what we’re counting on."

*~*~*

No words were shared on the long trek back, making it one of the more uncomfortable twenty minutes Buffy had ever endured, and there were some fairly steep contenders. One didn’t live under Giles’s direction long without subjecting themselves to heart-rendering embarrassment at least once or three thousand times. Kelly’s silence wasn’t helping matters, either. She walked between Wright and Wesley with a blank, almost lost look on her face. As though caught between realities and trying to determine which face provided the most truth. 

The situation didn’t better itself upon arriving at the Hyperion. Rather, the crowd of concerned faces seemingly took its toll. Kelly jerked free from Wright’s grip and marched resolutely to the sofa, ignoring Cordelia and Fred; even Giles’s imploring eyes went unacknowledged. She determinately evaded her mother-in-law’s face, only glancing in her direction to verify Rosie and William were safely in her care. 

When it became apparent Kelly wasn’t going to speak, Cordelia turned to Wright with an arched brow. "What happened?" 

"Kelly likes her vamps extra crispy," Gunn said, moving forward and removing the bandana wrapped around his brow. "Figure Angelus and Darla will hit up Evil Incorporated for some new real estate?" 

Cordelia’s eyes widened. "What?" 

"Fire," Buffy said simply. "Lots of it. And I lost my favorite crossbow." 

Kelly glanced up sheepishly and offered the first smile any of them had seen on her lips in what felt like centuries. "Sorry," she said. "I’ll buy you a new one." 

"Don’ offer, pet," Spike advised. "Last time I broke one of the Slayer’s toys, she had me fashion her one from scratch." 

At that, the vampire’s guilt became more prominent, marring every contour of her face. "Oh God," she said, her eyes shooting to Buffy. "I didn’t mean to. Really. I just…I knew where you kept them, and if—" 

Buffy held up a hand with a disarming smile before firing a glare in her mate’s direction. "He’s kidding, Kel," she assured her. "Well…kinda. Remember three years ago at Cape Fair? Spike and Zack decided it would be a good idea to pose as investment brokers for that gang of Fejaro demons?" 

It was a slow transformation; Kelly’s eyes grew distant and focused on some obscure point on the wall, a small, watery smile itching her lips. "Yeah," she replied absently. "The one that paid for the trip to Sea World?" 

Spike nodded and turned to Buffy. "See?" he said, gesturing demonstratively. "It was worth it." 

"That was an apology trip," Buffy reminded him, her eyes narrowing. "You were trying to get out of the doghouse." 

"An’ it worked." 

"I made Zack sleep on the floor the entire week," Kelly admitted. Her smile had disappeared in favor of the lost look she had worn inside. Then, before she could help herself, her face began to crumble and the tears she’d held at bay at last washed to freedom. It wasn’t out of reaction or fear, rather acceptance and sorrow. The sort she couldn’t cry before. "I’m never going to see him again, am I?" 

It was a question everyone had dreaded, and not solely for Kelly’s sake. The weight in Spike’s eyes was nearly as great; Buffy saw it clearly. The only thing keeping him from breaking was the knowledge that he had to be strong for everyone else. However, Zack’s image was buried now. For the Slayer. For Spike. For everyone whose life he’d touched in one way or another. They couldn’t afford to keep thinking of him as the man they knew. The husband, the friend, the son, the brother. It was a lesson Buffy had learned the hard way once—a lesson she couldn’t force upon anyone, yet similarly one that couldn’t wait for discovery. With each second, the chance of recovering Zack slipped further away, and even if his soul found its way home, there was no guarantee it would be Zack who returned. It would be a haunted man—a shell of the person he’d once been. Such self-acknowledgment was unbearable to face, and there was every possibility the blood staining his hands would drive him mad. 

But Buffy couldn’t say that. Not to Kelly. Not to Spike. They both needed hope, even if the wrapping in which it came did little to disguise the truth inside. 

"Willow’s still out there," the Slayer said softly. "And believe me, she won’t give up. She’ll…I dunno, see this as the ultimate math problem. It’ll drive her crazy until she nails it." 

A throat cleared from the doorway, where Faith stood with her arms crossed looking decidedly unimpressed. "And until then, what?" she demanded, her eyes landing on Kelly. "Your boy’s doin’ some serious damage, kid. We supposed to sit around here hoping you don’t go all Firestarter on us the next time you hit the fucking wall?" 

"Not helping," Wright all but growled. 

Faith’s hands came up. "Just tryin’ to be realistic," she retorted. "You brought me here to reel the vamp in." 

"And all you managed was reel him into your pussy," the demon-hunter barked. "Haven’t you done enough damage?" 

"Right," she snapped. "Blame the girl who got the massive neck wound. I’m not the one leaving surprises on your front lawn, and it ain’t my fault Kelly never learned not to play with matches. And this ‘wait for Willow’ bit isn’t doing more than giving Zack time to add more to the body count. Sitting around isn’t hurting him at all, and you guys ran out of bright ideas in about ten seconds. You can’t keep threatening to kill him the next time he comes around, ‘cause he’s determined to make you all the little Scoobies who cried wolf. He’s not dumb." 

Wright sneered. "Since when do you know him so well?" 

Faith’s brows perked. "I’ve been closer to him than anyone here," she said. "You’re not playing with the guy you knew, and even though you know it, you don’t. None of you have accepted it isn’t your guy out there. Not even you, B." She turned to the other Slayer. "No one knows better than you, right? What it’s like watching your honey make merry at the all-you-can-eat people buffet. You killed Angel ‘cause you knew you had to, but you hold out on the emo vamp because…?" 

Buffy’s eyes flared. "That was different." 

"Yeah? Enlighten me." 

"Angel wasn’t my mate. I didn’t love him like I know how to love now. It hurt, yeah, but he wasn’t—"

"It doesn’t matter what he _wasn’t_ ," Faith barked. "We all know you and Spike are sick for each other now, but it wasn’t the way it was, then. What matters is what you thought Angel was at the time. You killed him when you thought he was your soul-mate." She broke away, shaking her head again. "You guys are fooling yourselves. He’s not gonna play nice, and he’s not gonna keep comin’ here. He’s gonna hit you where it hurts. Waiting for Willow will get someone killed." A pause. "Someone whose face you won’t forget quite so quick as you forgot the family he left here last night."

With that, her eyes fell on the kids in Melody Morris’s arms, and the ripple of her point tore through the foyer.

There was no point in retorting. Not when everyone knew it was the truth.

*~*~*

"Well, I never thought I’d say it," Buffy said as the group took their seats. "But Faith is right."

"Thanks," the Slayer in question said dryly, though there was an undeniable look of retribution in her eyes. Most of the hotel’s occupants had retired for the night, leaving Spike, Buffy, Wright, Gunn, Wesley, and Faith to discuss what measures they could take from this point out. The secrecy was extreme but necessary; given what Kelly had done tonight, there was no time to wait. Something had to be done, and quickly.

"We can’t wait for Zack to retaliate."

Spike shook his head. "He wasn’t there tonight."

Wright frowned. "How do you know?"

The vampire met his friend’s eyes. "I know," he replied. "After getting Kelly out, it was the firs’ thing I looked for. He wasn’t there, an’ I figure he hadn’t been since takin’ off last night." He shrugged and glanced to Buffy. "Had to know, love."

She smiled softly. "I know."

"So, what do you propose?" Wright asked. "We tried capturing him and that didn’t pan out." He glanced to Faith, and though he didn’t say it, the accusation behind his eyes was undeniable. "And before we could come up with an alternative, he was here making a big mess."

Buffy flattened her palms against her slacks. "I say we go back to Plan A," she said.

Spike nodded. "Bring him here, you mean."

"Right. We had the cage started, and yeah, our plan didn’t pan out but that was…" She skirted her eyes carefully from the other Slayer’s. "We don’t need to surprise him. I mean, we outnumber him like…twelve to one. We can canvass the town, capture him, and haul him back here." She shrugged. "At least that way we’ll keep Kelly from starting anymore wildfires."

"Sun sets soon enough," Spike observed. "Zangy won’ be hunting until the lights go out."

"Wait," Gunn said. "We doin’ this now?"

"We don’ have time to wait, mate," the eldest vampire replied. "He’s gonna be out an’ we need to be there to gnab him."

"The cage isn’t done," Wesley said. "We stopped halfway through construction."

"Which is why we need you and Wright to stay here," Buffy explained. "You guys can get the cage done while we do the gritty work."

Faith blinked in surprise. "And by we, you mean…"

"You, me, Spike, and Gunn."

"You want me out there?"

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. "You gonna fuck him again?"

"Not on your life."

"‘S a good idea," Spike concurred. "Vamp gets a taste of slayer blood, an’ he’ll want more." He nodded to Buffy. "Put her out there an’ he’ll follow."

She grinned. "You’d certainly know, wouldn’t you, sweetie?"

"Better bloody believe it."

"What do we tell Kelly?" Wright asked, his eyes traveling upward as though they could peel through the ceiling. "Anything?"

Buffy shook her head. "No," she replied quickly. "No, not right now. Not until we actually have something to tell her. Not right now, though…not while we’re empty-handed." She rose to her feet. "Zack, Wes…you guys better get started."

Spike stood promptly behind her, fingers slipping through hers. "Better hit the chest upstairs before we head out, love," he observed. "See what weapons Kelly left us."

"Do you really think you’ll have him tonight?" Wesley asked.

"We’ll have something," Buffy replied. "And whatever we get will go in that cage."


	23. Chapter 23

It was after the fifth idea in the past four hours failed that Willow officially gave up. Whatever hope onto which she’d been clinging that she could break through the wall without the use of darker magicks died with a spectacularly pathetic whine. "I have an idea," she announced.

"Oh thank God," Josh said from where he sat with his head braced hard against his palm. "And here I thought we were in trouble."

"Willow," Donna warned.

"Something tells me I’m going to hate this idea," Sam said, his panicked eyes traveling between the blonde and the redhead. "Please tell me I’m not going to hate this idea."

Willow smiled weakly. "You’re not going to hate this idea?"

"Why was that a question?"

"Because you’re going to hate it."

"Willow…"

"And that’s why I’m not going to tell you." She turned to Donna. "I’m going to do it."

"Willow, don’t."

"You can’t talk me out of this." She shook her head, doing her best to put on a brave face and ignore how hard her insides were shaking. "I’m going to start constructing the Destroyer."

"The what?!" Josh and Sam exclaimed.

"The…the gem. And if you need to use it…" Willow held Donna’s eyes. "You’ll know what to do."

"No, Willow, you can’t—"

"Ummm, I don’t mean to get all dictator on you, but there’s nothing you can do to stop me." She shook her head. "This isn’t about me…it’s about getting through that wall so we can stop something worse than…anything you guys can imagine. We need to get to the Hyperion."

"But we need you to be there," Donna said. "If we stop you, there’s no point to getting there."

"Yeah, let’s worry less about that now and more about this."

"But this—"

"Look, this is the way it’s going to be. I’m going to do what I need to do." She sent a glare to the invisible wall. "This puppy’s coming down."

"Willow?" Sam wibbled. "Please…"

But she didn’t respond. She couldn’t even look at him.

Not now. Not with her mind made up.

*~*~*

Perhaps it was teenage rebellion. Perhaps it was legitimate. Perhaps it was sheer stupidity, but Rosalie was through being treated as a child. With all the training she’d endured as a child, with everything she’d been through, everything she’d seen and the number of demon hides she had metaphorically nailed to her wall, she felt she was owed her share. Especially when the stakes were so high—especially with her uncle tearing everything she loved to the ground. Wright typically kept her in controlled conditions with demons that were laughable pushovers or beasts she never truly got to fight. Her demon-hunter dad was always in the shadows, crossbow aimed at the monster shoving her in the corner so he could fire a clean shot if need be. He let her practice but never let her truly test her abilities. He let her exercise, but not commit. 

He didn’t want to admit that she’d been born into a world of monsters, and this was the path she’d chosen. Everything that had happened since her mother’s death had been at Wright’s doing. He embarked on the mission to destroy demons; Rosalie and Nikki had merely been along for the ride. They’d learned how to fight out of necessity, not because it was what he wanted either of them to do with their lives. Therefore when Rosalie outgrew her Barbies and started watching monster movies rather than stories featuring Disney princesses, he’d been alarmed. Alarmed, but not surprised. 

When one grew up in a demon-hunter’s household, one became a demon-hunter. It was simply the way it was. 

Only Wright never treated her like a demon-hunter. He couldn’t, because she wasn’t in his eyes. She was his daughter, and his little girl wasn’t equipped to be a demon-hunter. Not when it might result in a serious case of dead. 

He didn’t want to admit this was her fight, too. He didn’t want to admit she had a right battle the forces of darkness. It wasn’t _her mother_ who had died; it was _his wife_ , and the difference there was all the difference. Perhaps Wright had always considered Amber more his than their daughter’s; she’d represented a high school fantasy he would now likely scorn, for her brightness would blind him entirely. Rosalie honestly couldn’t fathom her father with anyone but Cordelia, including what little she remembered of her mother. But over the past few years, she had developed a theory; the woman Amber had been and the woman Wright remembered were not the same. It was the idea of what he should have had, not what he’d truly wanted. That was what had died. More than the woman herself—the idea of the woman. And since then, he’d committed himself to avenging the idea. 

The idea he wouldn’t want anymore. The idea which had since evolved into something the young Zack Wright wouldn’t have even given a second thought. The idea of a daughter for whom he wished a better, violentless life. The idea of a woman he was afraid to marry and the child he was afraid to see born. Now more than ever, he became a parent. Not an instructor, and not someone who looked at Rosalie and saw what she could and had accomplished, but as his very-breakable little girl. 

That was all well and good, but Rosalie wasn’t little and she sure as hell wasn’t breakable. And if they were going to capture her deranged uncle, she’d be there to tighten the proverbial noose. 

Her father and Wesley were occupied completing the cage downstairs, and Cordelia had retired early for the night. Nikki had disappeared and Fred was helping Melody Morris with the kids. Kelly had likewise retreated upstairs and it was unlikely that she would come down at all before the sun rose. This turned the task of her father’s crossbow into a laughably simple offense. With any luck, she’d have it back before anyone noticed she was gone. 

A plan which would have worked were it not for the fact that the other Slayer, Faith, had lingered behind. As though Rosalie’s minor mutiny had been anticipated by the entire hotel and she’d been placed on guard duty. 

"I take it you’re not going on a soda run," the Slayer drawled, resting her head against the tree against which she leaned. Her eyes landed on the crossbow. "And if you are, I don’t think I wanna know how you plan on payin’." 

Rosalie’s chin pointed to the heavens, her eyes flashing indignantly. "They keep you here to watch me?" 

Faith snorted and scratched the back of her neck. "My, don’t we think highly of ourselves?" 

"Well—" 

"Sorry, kid. It’s Big Mama they’re worried about." She nodded to the hotel. "Vampire slayer to vamp-sit. And here I thought I’d see some action." She looked again on the crossbow. "And I might yet. Makin’ a hustle outta town in a hurry, are we?" 

"I’m going out for the hunt." 

A brow flickered in interest. "Yeah?" 

"He’s my uncle, isn’t he?" 

"Word has it that hasn’t been common knowledge too long." 

"Does that matter?" 

Faith shrugged. "Not to me. I just think you’re a shitty liar if that’s your excuse. More likely, little girl wants to play with daddy’s toys. And really, who could blame you?" Her eyes ran covetously up the length of the weapon. "Your father’s got good taste." 

Rosalie’s nose wrinkled. "Don’t talk to me about my father’s taste."

The other slayer snickered appreciatively. "Well, figure I can’t talk you out of this, can I?"

She rolled her shoulders defensively. "Nope."

"And even though papa’s downstairs getting the cage ready for your wacked out uncle, I was never one to tattle." Faith shrugged. "Come on."

"What?"

"Well, I sure as fuck ain’t gonna sit aside and let little miss wannabe hog all the action." The Slayer’s hands came up defensively when Rosalie glared at her. "Look, I get wanting to bring the bastard down all solo and shit, but hunting by yourself is just stupid. Especially when you’re all rookie. And you are, kid. No matter what you think. And everyone here’s just itching for a reason to ship me off to internment camp. So if you’re goin’, I’m goin’. Not gonna stop you, but not gonna let you get your dainty little skin all bruised, neither."

Rosalie worried a lip between her teeth, weighing her options which weren’t entirely in her favor. Either she went back inside or she went with Faith.

Faith who wouldn’t play by the rules. Faith, who would let her get away with things Wright would not.

"All right," she agreed softly. "All right. Let’s go."

*~*~*

"This is definitely the harder job," Wright asserted, wiping away the sweat which had gathered at his brow. "Taking a leisurely stroll through the city?"

"Easy," Wesley agreed, wrenching the last of the large bolts into the back of the cage. 

"Very easy. They got the wussy job."

"I’ll heartily concur."

Wright paused and frowned at his friend. "Yeah, Wes, if we’re agreeing they’re the wussies and we’re The Men, we might not wanna use wussy words to describe how non-wussy we are."

Wesley’s brow furrowed in contemplation before he offered a hearty nod. "Noted."

"We’re not the kids who got stuck with the dumb job."

"Absolutely not."

"We’re the only guys in this whole fuckin’ dive who could’ve put this cage together."

"Right. They’re lucky we were here."

"Damn fucking right." Wright sighed and sat back, sizing up the bolt he’d just finished tightening. The cage was all but finished, and he felt thoroughly useless. While the previous expeditions had produced disastrous results, he still felt a need to be out there. To be on the hunt with Spike and Buffy. It was his brother, after all, no matter how novel the concept. If anyone was going to bag him, he felt he’d deserved it. 

No matter that Zack Morris was a virtual stranger to him. No matter how well Spike knew him or what they’d gone through, Wright had lost more than his worth for what his brother’s soul had cost. This wasn’t about vampirism or their strange definition of family, no matter how much Wright respected Spike and valued his friendship. Perhaps he was out of line, but he felt the years following Amber’s death; the suffering he’d endured and the heartache he’d made himself conquer. The things he’d sacrificed…

Things like a relationship with his daughter. Things like good schools, a decent place to live, and a steady income. Things like telling his daughter bedtime stories rather than going over the quickest exit procedure should they come under fire. He’d never taken Rosalie to the park. He’d never stopped to buy her ice-cream or treat her to the movies. He’d taught her basic defense strategies. He’d taught her how to wield swords, twist knives, aim crossbows, use her body weight to her advantage when the weapons she held outweighed her small form. For the first few years following Amber’s death, he’d refrained from telling Rosalie he loved her. Not when she woke up or before he left on the hunt, or the few times he tucked her in at night. He hadn’t for fear that if he admitted he loved her—if he whispered his love for anyone, it would render them dead.

For the first few years following her mother’s death, Rosalie had lived night and day without knowing her father loved her. And it killed him.

He’d sacrificed more than he had to give, and now he knew why. The reason was currently tearing the city apart. 

And he was putting together a fucking play-pen. Yeah, this seemed fair. 

"I need water," Wesley announced, rolling to his feet. He dabbed his sweaty brow against his arm. "Do you need anything?"

"I could use some water."

"Right," he replied. "Be right back."

Wright nodded absently and glanced back to the iron tomb he’d constructed. There was no telling whether or not the cage would actually hold his brother, and while he agreed with Buffy that it would be safer for everyone with Zack imprisoned here, he wasn’t sure it would benefit anyone’s mentality.

With Zack here, Kelly might wander downstairs and get a reality check on how much of her husband was not in the thing wearing his face. She knew now—if she talked with him, though, the veracity could hit home.

"I’m surprised to see you down here."

Wright wasn’t one to startle easily, but the voice caught him off guard. He jerked around in a blink, his eyes fixing on Nikki’s form where she stood half-cast in shadow. "Fuck, Nikki," he reprimanded. "Bell. Neck."

"You didn’t used to be so jumpy," she observed, arching a brow. "A floorboard creaked at our motel, and you were always locked and ready." 

"Yeah, well, since I own the fucking place, I don’t figure I need to keep glancing over my shoulder." That wasn’t entirely true, but Nikki had been edging his nerves for the past few days and he didn’t like people sneaking up on him. "Something bothering you?"

"No. I just…" She shrugged. "I haven’t felt very useful. And considering how much action we used to see, it’s making me go a little stir crazy."

Wright could appreciate that. Back in the day, when she wasn’t watching Rosalie, Nikki would be there at his side. Fighting the good fight. Watching his back. Tossing him weapons and warning him when the demon he’d thought he’d slain rolled back onto its feet. Over the past few days, and really the last few years, those times had dwindled to nothing. He didn’t need her like he had then. He hadn’t needed her at all.

"It was a little easier then, wasn’t it?" Nikki asked. "I mean…we didn’t stay in swanky places like this, but we got on, didn’t we? There was no grand conspiracy or stupid gray areas. We just went out and did the job. Killed the demons and moved on. Hunted and moved on." She nodded to the cage. "Now we give them rooms."

"It’s a bit more complicated than that, Nik."

"Yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t miss it," she replied. "It was easier…and we…we didn’t doubt things like we doubt things now." She took a step forward. Then another. Then before he knew what was happening, she had pressed up against him. Pressed up against him in a way she never had before…in a way women didn’t unless they were looking for something more than just a quick reassuring hug. And without warning, everything around him went numb.

What the hell was going on?

"We always looked out for each other," Nikki whispered. She raised a hand to his cheek, and he was too startled to pull away. "I always looked out for you. Washed your clothes. Cooked your food. Bandaged your wounds. I was always there, wasn’t I?"

"Nikki—"

Her lips were warm against his and inspired his stomach to reject its recent intake. Wright choked and shoved her back, blurred eyes darting around the basement as his mouth itched to eradicate the imprint of Nikki’s kiss as his mind raced to piece together what had just occurred. Nikki had kissed him. His wife’s little sister. His dead wife’s little sister. Rosalie’s aunt. Nikki. The kid with scrawny knees and a peanut allergy. Amber’s sister. Nikki.

"I love you!"

He barely recognized the words.

"I love you," Nikki proclaimed again, attempting to throw her arms around his neck. "I always have. I’ve been waiting, Zack. Waiting for you to see I’m the one—"

"God, Nikki…"

"I know you better than anyone. I’ve been with you from the beginning. I fought with you. I watched Rosalie when you couldn’t. I…I understood better than anyone what you were going through, because she was my sister and I—"

"Nik—"

"I love you. Zack, I love you so much."

"Get out."

Whatever she had been prepared to say died on her lips, her eyes blanking. "What?"

"Get out," Wright gasped, wiping his lips. God, he wouldn’t be able to brush his teeth hard enough. Her taste permeated every inch of his mouth. The flavor of his sister. He was going to be sick. "Out. _Out_. Out of the hotel. Get your things and get the fuck out."

"You don’t mean it."

"Like hell I don’t." Wright shook his head hard, his eyes rolling up. A form shadowed the doorway. Wesley. How long he’d been standing there was anyone’s guess, as was how much he’d heard. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing aside from getting Nikki the fuck out of his life, and now. "You’re out. You got it? Out. I don’t want you coming near me, Rosalie, or Cordelia ever again. Take what I’ve given you and leave."

"Who will be here to watch Rosalie?"

"Rosalie’s not a kid anymore," he snapped. "She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need your supervision."

"Yeah?" Nikki fired back. "Who was going to tell you she snuck out, huh?"

Wright’s blood ran cold. "What?"

"About ten minutes ago," the girl continued, vindicated. "She snuck out. Had your crossbow, too. And I was the only one watching, Zack! I was the only one. I always have. For you. For us. I’ve always—"

Wright glanced up and met Wesley’s eyes. "Take her to her room and watch her pack her things," he shouted. "Then come after me."

"Right," Wesley agreed, both ignoring the wild look of stark betrayal swallowing Nikki’s eyes. "And then what?"

"Then we bring my daughter back. And she’s fucking grounded."

*~*~*

Laynx demons were gooey and damn hard to separate as they tended to hunt in packs. They weren’t native to California, though sightings of herds migrating to this area had been reported twice over the past seven years. It was fortunate—or, in Rosalie’s opinion, extremely unfortunate—that the third herd decided to conglomerate around her and Faith. Even more unfortunate that they weren’t nearly as difficult to keep together as reports would lead one to believe. Before Rosalie could blink, she found herself alone in a dark alley, fighting off the last of the goo-drenched demons.

It seemed to be her luck, then, that the second she had a moment to catch her breath she found herself very much not-alone.

"Aren’t we the brave little warrior?"

A shiver raced down Rosalie’s spine. It seemed like months had passed since she heard that voice. A voice she hadn’t known very long to begin with, yet one that sounded so much like her father she had to keep herself for apologizing for some unknown offense. Father always knew, after all, when his little girl was doing something she shouldn’t?

Something like stealing a crossbow to go hunting.

"Did you come to give your uncle a hug?"

"Don’t make me sick," Rosalie spat, her eyes trailing the shadows painting the building walls that encased her. She couldn’t see him. Not a flicker. Not a move. Nothing. A rush of fear tickled her spine and she forced herself to swallow it. Zack would know if she was afraid. Chances were he did already.

"Can’t imagine dearest daddy letting his little princess out of the castle," Zack retorted, his voice floating above her. "We really are very much alike, Rosalie. Neither one of us likes taking orders."

A flicker from her left. Rosalie whirled and took aim, firing before she could stop herself. The arrow crashed into a water pipe without ceremony, leaving her with nothing but the crackling echo of defeat which ran alongside Zack’s chuckles.

"Aren’t we jumpy?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"And we got a mouth, too. Wonder how it’d feel around my dick."

Her stomach turned in disgust. "You’re repulsive."

"Make you scream. In pleasure or pain is your choice."

Whatever retort she had prepared was effectively silenced by the clamor of trash cans hitting pavement as a weighty force collided with another. A vampire’s roar pierced the air and a man’s grunts forced him into the light. It was brief—it was so brief—but as the spiraling form of two beings danced into her line of vision, she caught sight of the demon hunter who had trailed her home the other night, arms and legs entangled around her uncle’s writhing body. She was too startled to react. To say or do or think anything; all she could do was stand in blank astonishment.

"Who the fuck is this?" Zack demanded, but he didn’t await an answer. In a beat, he had the man thrown over his shoulder, shoving him head-first against a hard outer brick wall and rendering him nothing but a lifeless heap in a pile of trashbags.

Rosalie had no time to think. The demon-hunter was gone, and she was standing before her vampiric uncle. Too late she remembered the crossbow in her arms. Too late she recalled the Slayer just a stone’s throw away. Too late. Too late.

She just saw the face of her uncle, and everything else faded away.

*~*~*

Faith very rarely experienced anxiety, though when she did she became the version of herself that tended to end up behind bars. Right now, she felt anxious, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one little bit.

"Hey!" she screamed, tearing down the sidewalk to the next alley. Nothing. Nothing. How did a girl vanish into thin air? "Rosie! Rosalie Wright!"

"Faith!"

She whirled around, her stomach dropping. "Great," she muttered. Big Daddy was out, and from the look of things, prepared to take down the Spanish Armada with his bare hands. Every inch of his body was decorated with something lethal. A knife. A gun. A length of chain. At least one kind of crossbow thrown over his shoulder. How he could move at all was a mystery, but she wasn’t going to question it. She was going to find herself with one bruised ass and not for the right reason, but she was glad he was here.

"Where is she?" Wright demanded. "Where’s my daughter?"

"We got separated," Faith explained, her eyes falling on Wesley, who was at Wright’s side. "The kid was sneaking out…I figured I couldn’t stop her, but I could keep an eye out, right? We got cornered by a group of big nasties and the next thing I knew, she was gone." She glanced around. "I-I don’t know where she went."

Wright’s eyes darkened dangerously. He took a step forward. "Anything that happens to her happens to you," he snarled. "She breaks a leg, you break a leg. She loses an eye, you lose an eye. You let my _daughter_ into the city where my brother is—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’re a scary motherfucker." Faith raised her stake. "Let’s just find Rosalie and then you can finish threatening me."

A scream pierced through the night-sky before Wright could bark at her again.

Rosalie.

Later, Wright wouldn’t remember moving. He would barely remember seeing Faith before tearing down the walkway toward the sound of his daughter’s cries. It was her; he knew it was her. It was a sound she’d never made. A sound that sliced his heart and filled his veins with the worst sort of fear he’d ever known, and Wright was a man well-acquainted with fear. But his baby girl had never cried like that, and the sound terrified him.

She was on the ground, Zack Morris straddling her waist. Her legs were decorated with the ripped fabric of her sweats, the crotch torn away completely, leaving her bare and open in her most delicate spot. The tank he’d bought her in which to train lay on the ground a few feet away, the straps chewed in two, her sports bra beside it. Spots of blood covered the skin he could see, and his brother’s fingers had jammed inside his daughter’s body. Tearing into her, breaking her.

And everything went red.

A cry Wright barely recognized as belonging to his voice tore through his throat, his body projecting itself as an independent entity at the monster violating his baby. They collided with a crash, hitting the cement floor with pressure that should have given him at least one broken bone, but he barely felt anything. He heard Rosalie crying in the background. Heard Wesley and Faith rushing to her side. Heard the horror in their voices as they tried to calm her.

Wright didn’t look at them. He couldn’t. His eyes were trained on Zack.

Zack, who was grinning like Cheshire cat. Zack, whose black eyes sparkled, whose fingers smelled of Rosalie. Zack, who had his daughter’s blood on his mouth.

"Uh oh," he cackled. "Daddy caught us."

A large knife slipped from his inner sleeve into his waiting hand, and Wright didn’t wait. He drew his arm back and smacked his brother hard, twisting the blade to slice its teeth across Zack’s chin. The vampire barely had time to react before Wright kicked him back and sliced him again, his other hand reaching for the axe he’d stored in a side-sling on his leg. This he buried in Zack’s side, withdrew quick, and redirected into his thigh.

"You just ran out of passes, you sick son of a bitch," Wright snarled. Zack barely had time to glance up before the knife came down again, cutting this time into his neck before a booted foot kicked him square in the chest, sending him soaring back. "You think it’s a game? You think I’m some fucking pushover? You forget who you’re fucking dealing with. I’m not some lily-footed human." He twisted the axe in his hand and smacked him hard with the handle. "I’ve killed thousands of you, Zack. _Thousands_. I dedicated my life to killing you. Over and over. You might look different, but in the end it’s just dust." The knife clamored inelegantly to the ground, his right hand whipping the chain he’d roped around into grasp. "Just dust. And yeah, people mourn. People cry. But you know what else?" A whip of chain smashed Zack’s cheek, and another crashed alongside his head. "People _move the fuck on_. And that’s what we’ll do, brother. We’ll _move the fuck on_."

There was nothing of the cocky bastard he’d stumbled upon just a few minutes ago. Zack’s eyes were black and heavy, his mouth cracked and bleeding. Red dampened his clothing, large gashes of broken skin doctoring his body. The cocky glimmer in his eyes had been traded for fear.

Fear. Zack Morris was afraid.

And he had damned better be.

Wright shoved him back again as far as he could—forcing him against a wire fence matted against the alley-wall. With a swing, the chain in his arm had wrapped itself around Zack’s neck. Then he was pulling. Pulling Zack up the length of the wall like a limp doll. Around his wrists, Wright quickly administered barbed wire, tying him to the fence behind him.

"I’m done playing nice," he told him. "I’m done doing what I’m told."

"Zack," the vampire moaned. "Please…"

"Please? Please? You think fucking please is gonna save you now?" Wright shook his head hard. "I thought this was best for Kelly. Leaving you alive. But you know what I think now? I think it’d be better for everyone if you just…vanished. And that’s what’s gonna happen, Zack. In a few hours, right here in this alley, the sun will come, and you’ll be gone." He reached down for the forgotten blade on the pavement, and without hesitation, thrust it through his brother’s chest and tore a clean line to his belly. "You’ll be gone. So you just sit here and think about it."

He turned away without a beat of hesitation, throwing his axe over his shoulder.

And the last thing Zack saw was his own blood splattering along the pavement.


	24. Chapter 24

Willow’s back was turned as mesmerizing arrays of light and color filled the air. Sam and Josh looked on in amazement while Donna’s eyes filled with tears. The blond had full understanding of the situation, and knew that the chances were slim that Willow would survive to walk past the barrier standing before them.

"This is wicked," Josh murmured as he leaned over next to her. "Too bad we didn’t think about a camera."

Donna lost herself in her emotions. She turned to give Josh one of the most passionate kisses of their existence. She was trying to say more than words could allow—how much she loved him, how much she regretted the fact it took so many years for them to finally get together. The fact that they never got married or had kids like she had secretly hoped. In a way, this kiss was her goodbye; because at the end of this ordeal she didn’t believe they would all be standing.

"Wha?" was Josh’s instinctive response as she pulled away. Then, as he saw Donna sniffle and wipe her eyes, he understood. His voice softened to a low whisper. "Really? You think so, baby?" She nodded numbly. "Well…"

Willow was finished with the Destroyer and came over to place it in Donna’s hand. As soon as the task was complete, the witch walked over to her carpet bag and began rummaging for items.

"This is it?" Donna asked as she looked at the shiny pebble-sized stone in her palm. "This looks so…"

"Trust me," Willow said as she bent over the bag and stuck her head inside. "It’s exactly what we talked about."

"That’s the Destroyer?" Sam asked hesitantly. "Does that mean that the name may be a bit exaggerated?"

"No." Willow stopped her current search so she could turn around and face her friends. "It’s not an exaggeration at all." The steely resolve in her eyes made everyone’s blood run cold. "I’ve talked to Donna and if the time comes, she’ll know what to do."

Both men turned to the blond in question. Any ounce of confidence was thrown by the wayside when Donna’s chin quibbled. Sam shakily turned his attention back to Willow. "B-but you said ‘if’. So that means there’s every possibility that we won’t need it." His new girlfriend’s silence was unnerving. "Right?"

Willow was slow and deliberate with her words. "There’s a possibility we may not use it." _There’s a possibility I may kill Donna before she gets a chance to use it._

"Well…" Sam said uneasily. "Let’s just say we’re erring on the side of caution on this one. Kinda like you take the tracking beacon when you go skiing."

"Life jacket when you head out on the water," Josh offered.

"Solar blanket when you go hiking," Donna hesitantly added.

"Wear your seatbelt."

"Why you sign the organ donor part on your driver’s license."

"Create a will."

"Have a pre-nup."

"Why everyone bought extra food before Y2K."

"Or why you bring extra batteries for your camera."

"Never go out in dirty underwear."

The banter was calming them. And Willow was eager to participate. The thought that it may be her final chance to feel a part of something other than herself. "Never go patrolling without an extra stake." Her face lit up. "Ohh! Never travel to Samaria without bringing a vial of Septaveserum." The moment was broken by the blank looks on Josh, Donna and Sam’s faces. "Maybe you hadn’t heard that last one."

"Maybe not," Sam tentatively admitted.

*~*~*

Zack could smell her long before she approached. Though she dripped of him, he didn’t care. In this moment she was an angel coming to pull him from his crucifix. She was his salvation and he meant to prove to her his gratitude the moment she released him from his bonds. "Darla," he whispered.

"Well, looky here," Angelus chuckled. "Looks to me you’re in a bit of a sticky wicket." Darla snickered appreciatively at the comment, making her childe continue on his antagonizing. "Hope you figure out how to get down before dawn. Though I may come back so that I can watch the show."

"Darla," Zack pleaded as he looked to the vampire. "Help me."

Darla gave him a quizzical look. "Where’s the fun in that?"

"Darla!" Fear filled his eyes.

Darla turned to Angelus and chuckled. "You should let me borrow that ring for the sun-up show."

"Not a chance," Angelus said with a smirk. "You’ve tried to steal it three times already."

"As your sire I should have first dibs."

"We can fight for it." There was no mistaking the lust in their eyes. "It should be fun."

"Let’s go."

"Darla!" Zack called again.

She looked back without an ounce of remorse. "Sorry, but you’re just not worth it. You definitely got it where it counts." She gestured down his torso. "But you’re too much of a liability with exes coming around and setting fire to our beds."

"Besides," Angelus added defensively. "You’re a Wolfram and Hart lacky now." He turned to Darla. "I didn’t think he was that great."

She grinned devilishly. "You should have had him willingly." She gave a final look to Zack before turning to Angelus. "You ready?"

"Let’s blow this place." And with that, they were gone.

Zack was alone. Alone to die.

*~*~*

"What are you looking for?" Donna asked.

Willow had once again concentrated her efforts on searching through her bag. "Just some stuff I’m going to need."

"How much does that thing hold?" Sam was in shock as a steady pile of discarded objects was growing beside the witch.

"It’s not the biggest they sell, but it holds all of the stuff I like to bring along when I go out."

"Is that a rubber chicken?" Sam gestured to one of the most recent objects to come flying over her shoulder.

"It was a gift from Lord Flannery. He’s a bit of a jokester."

"Is that a rubber ball?" Donna asked.

"You never know when you’ll have kids around." Willow immersed herself deeper into the carpet back. Her voice was muffled. "I knew I should have bought the one with compartments."

"I feel like we entered the Twilight Zone…or the Land of Oz." Josh was holding Donna’s hand as tightly as comfort would allow.

"I think the books are stuck on the bottom again. Oh bugger," Willow grumbled as she crawled inside of her carpet bag.

*~*~*

"Oh bugger," Hunter slurred as he slowly regained consciousness. He was in too much pain to move, but believed the smell of the ripe rubbish was going to make him ill. His mind traveled to Rosalie and in a second he was ready to spring into action, broken body and all. It was the sound of the car racing down the alleyway that caused his body to freeze.

The sound of car doors was followed by a woman’s heels clicking across the cement. Her voice was next. "Can you respond?"

"Yes."

Hunter knew that voice. He knew it too well. It was Zack Morris.

"We were afraid Wright was going to kill you," stuttered a man that Hunter didn’t recognize.

"Thanks, Dad. Nice to know you care."

 _Derek Morris._ Hunter’s mind filled with realization. This must be the infamous Wolfram and Hart. The woman’s voice filled the air once again as she began to talk into a phone or walkie talkie.

"This is Morgan. Yes, I have subject 2-2-7. He’s alive though Wright did cause significant injuries. I’m going to need approximately two gallons of human blood." A pause. "Also…also bring me a vampire. Any vampire will do." Her voice seemed to fill with joy. "I have an idea that will buy us more time."

The information was too much for Hunter to comprehend. _Wolfram and Hart. Vampire. Blood. Zack alive. Rosalie. Where was Rosalie?_ Before any questions could be answered, he drifted back into unconsciousness.

*~*~*

The world had stopped. Rosalie’s entire realm of existence had failed her. She was beyond words, beyond emotion. With every fiber of her being, she tried to leave her world. Leave the harsh reality where she felt so vulnerable and exposed.

"Rosalie," her father sobbed as he pulled her close. She was still unclothed, but he didn’t seem to notice as he rushed her inside the Hyperion.

She noticed her nakedness. She heard the screams. The cries of concern. The pleas for answers from everyone as her father ran up the stairs.

Rosalie was aware of it all. Painfully aware. And with all the energy she had left, she tried desperately to escape. To go so far into herself that none of it would matter. So far that no one could ever hurt her again.

*~*~*

"My God, that thing is going to eat you!" Sam rushed over to grab her torso.

"It’s fine!" Willow shouted from within the bag. "I’m almost there."

"Where?" Donna asked.

Josh couldn’t pull his eyes away. "I believe she’s found that secret tunnel between here and the center of the earth."

"Got it!" She squealed. "Uhh…Sam?"

"I’m on it," he said as he hoisted her back to the surface. In her hands were a pile of books, all large and ominous.

"So," Josh asked. "Did that count as your carryon?"

Willow paused to smile. Comforted that the pieces had finally fallen into place for her final plan. "As a matter of fact, it did."

"Can you buy one?"

Sam reached over to help the witch straighten the books. "Ten bucks says you could find one in Sky Mall."

Willow smiled, but resisted his assistance. "Then you owe me ten dollars. These are custom made by a shop in Diagon Alley."

"How much do they cost?"

"About Fifteen hundred Galleons apiece. The sets are astronomical."

"What does that thing look like when it goes through the airport scanner?" Josh wasn’t ready to move on.

"Whatever I want it to."

"Really?"

Willow sighed. "I hate to cut this riveting conversation about my luggage to a close, but I really need to get back to work."

"Are those books going to give you a spell that will cause you not to have to…" Donna didn’t want to complete the sentence.

"Actually these books are the main part of my plan."

"What are they?" Sam was trying desperately to be a help, but Willow was determined to do this on her own.

"They’re the books of the darkest magic ever created or written."

Sam looked at her quizzically. "And you keep them with you because…"

"Because I never know when I am going to have to consult them when dealing with a dark wizard. And I never know when I’m going to need to absorb all the dark energy in order to create a strength to break through energy field barriers."

"No!" Sam rushed to grab the books or Willow or anything with which to stop her plan from taking place.

"I’m sorry, Sam." With the wave of her hand, the witch was able to summon an invisible energy force which pushed Sam back to where he stood originally with Josh and Donna. "I really do care about you. And maybe if I don’t go all evil and try to take over the world, you and I can go out again sometime. Well, after the apocalypse of course."

She couldn’t wait any more. The time had come. She threw the books down on the ground at her feet and waved her hands over them. Instantly every one opened to their darkest page, where the most intense magic was stored. As a couple of books cried out in anger and screamed in horrifying delight, she waved her hand across them once more. A bright glow gathered on the ancient pages casting an eerie light upon the witch’s face. Willow took a final breath before plunging each hand into a glowing book.

"Oh God," Donna whispered. The men were speechless as they watched the light of the books travel from the pages to absorb into the witch. With a howling cry she looked toward the sky before looking back at them once more. Her eyes were as black as onyx as she ripped her hands from the books and placed them into two more. Growing brighter as her eyes grew blacker.

" _Where the fuck is The Destroyer_?!?" Josh screamed above the deafening chaos.

*~*~*

It was just before dawn when Hunter awoke. He felt as though every bone in his body was crushed, but was grateful when all of his appendages were able to work in unison to pull him from the garbage heap. "Bloody, buggering hell," he growled as he slowly stood up.

"Hey! Hey you! Help me!"

Hunter whirled around to see a vampire chained to the fence. Through it was a soulless monster, the deepest part of the man felt pity in that instant. Pity for the creature who was begging for mercy at the thought of imminent death.

"Please, please let me down!"

"I can’t do that," Hunter sighed as walked over to stand in front of the vampire. The blood underneath his feet was overwhelming. Fear struck him as he realized he could not determine how much of it belonged to Rosalie.

"Please!" The vampire cried. "Please, save me!"

"I’m sorry. I can’t save you. But I can ease the pain."

"Yes, yes! Anything! Please!"

With calm resignation, Hunter slowly bent down to retrieve the stake strapped to his ankle. Never once did he look away from the creature’s imploring eyes; the eyes begging him for mercy.

Hunter gave him mercy. With one quick stroke the stake lodged in his heart. The vampire was too shocked to react. To shocked to do anything except burst into dust. Hunter watched it all with a degree of sadness.

"This is only the beginning. Isn’t it?" As the sun began its slow rise over Los Angeles, Hunter made his way from the alleyway. Made his way into the hell that was surrounding him. The hell that was determined to swallow him and his future Slayer whole.

*~*~*

Zack thought he was in a hospital room. The intravenous drip which was attached to his arm was so reminiscent from his mortal days. The difference was the blood which was being pumped into his system much like a saline solution.

He had lost consciousness sometime after being discovered, but before they were able to remove him from the fence. Zack was grateful for that. The idea of remembering the barbed wire being plucked from his flesh was so disturbing he shuttered. When he moved, he immediately noticed he wasn’t in pain. Much. In fact, considering the beating he survived at the hands of his brother, he was feeling remarkable.

Sitting up, he took in his new surroundings. The room was white. White and sterile. His wounds were clean and most were healed. There were only a few deep cuts that were not fully gone. The remaining had disappeared completely except for a few scars. Scars which served as reminders of his goals. His need to eliminate all the reminders if his past. Kelly, Spike, Buffy, Rosie, William, Wright. His battle wounds reminded him that they were a part of his past and would remain a part of his present until he killed them. Killed all of them.

The door opened and in came that pair of familiar heels. "Good. You’re awake."

Zack gave his best smile. "I missed you too, baby."

Morgan ignored him. "We have something to show you. Something I think you’ll enjoy." She caught his questionable glance to the IV drip. "It’s portable. Just like the ones used in human hospitals. Just grab it and let’s go. You still need two more blood infusions before nightfall."

Zack hopped off the table and grabbed the IV pole. "Where are we?"

"Wolfram and Hart infirmary."

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of sights and sounds. Zack was overwhelmed with the extensiveness of the Wolfram and Hart complex. Every turn seemed to bring about a new experience. The trip through the infirmary was mind-blowing. There seemed endless rooms filled with creatures, exposed by only a small, one-sided window where the caretakers could watch their patients while keeping the ‘ill’ completely unaware of the world surrounding them. Zack saw few creatures that were recognizable but many which held a mystification he had never before imagined.

"Keep up, please. I have a board meeting in half an hour."

Zack kept gawking in the passing rooms. Curiosity was getting the best of him at the moment. "W-Wait a minute!"

"Come on, Zack," Morgan snapped.

"Is that," he pointed into a patient cell. "Is that…Slater?"

Morgan grabbed the vampire’s arm. "Let’s go."

"This just isn’t fair," he pouted, but followed the woman just the same. After reaching the elevator, they went further into the confines of the complex. The silence was overwhelming to the vampire. "What’s the big surprise?"

"We found her last night approximately around the time of the incident between you and the Wrights. Our men were on their regularly scheduled patrol of the Hyperion area. She was alone and was surprisingly easy to detain. According to our patrollers, they haven’t seemed to miss her."

The doors opened into a holding area. Unlike the infirmary, which was designed for hundreds of occupants this floor seemed built to hold only a few special prisoners. Morgan gestured down the short hallway. "Last cell on the right."

Zack walked down to the holding chamber in confusion. He had no idea who could have been forgotten during the chaos of the previous night. When his eyes connected with hers, his black heart skipped with joy. "Oh yeah," he cackled. "This is fucking awesome."

Morgan grinned. "I thought you’d like it."

"Like it," he turned from the cell to look at the woman. "I feel like you just gave me my goddamn birthday."

Morgan’s eye’s filled with wicked mischief. "So, you think you’ll be able to have a little fun."

"Baby, I’m so turned on with excitement I could kiss you right now."

"I have a stun ray in my pocket that I can use at any moment."

"Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want to stop me."

"I need to get you back to the infirmary to rest before nightfall. You can decide what you want to do with her and then at dusk you can step back out and finish what you couldn’t last night."

He looked back to the cell and sighed. "Spoilsport. But the gag was a brilliant idea."

"Trust me. She was unbearable without it."

"I know," Zack said with an eye roll. Then, he focused his gaze on her fearful eyes. "Believe me when I say, you’ll beg for me to kill you like Darla killed your sister. You’ll beg to be cut open. You’ll cry out for mercy. For my big brother to rescue you. And I’ll relish every moment of you death. Tonight."

"You’re evil," Morgan said with a smile as Zack turned and walked back toward her.

"Bitch had it coming. Should have known better than to badmouth me at the doughnut shop." He walked pass the lawyer and into the elevator.

"There’s something about you, Zack Morris," Lilah commented as she followed him inside and pressed the button to close the doors. "I’m not entirely sure I like you, yet."

"I bet you’re starting to."

"That’s the part I’m not sure about."

*~*~*

He couldn’t rest until he knew she was safe. Until he knew that he hadn’t killed her.

It took only an hour’s worth of surveillance to figure out the Wolfram and Hart schedule. Every twenty minutes the black van would drive the same perimeter surrounding the Hyperion. Hunter slowly made his way through the alleyways until he was across the street from the back of the building. As the van drove by and turned down the corner, he made his way to the door.

"Nice try," he heard milliseconds before the rope caught around his knees and brought him to the ground.

"Oi!"

"Wolfram and Hart is getting a little dense, these days." A clamor of weaponry. "Big shocker."

"I’m not—" In an instant, Hunter was flipped from facing the ground to staring up into a familiar pair of eyes.

"Nick?"

"Faith?"

"What the fuck?" She took a step back as she kept her eyes focused on the man. "What’s the deal? Did the Polyester Protectors send a spy to check me out?"

"No."

"Did they think I’d get back home and turn all rogue on them?"

"Faith."

She pulled her shirt down to expose her neck. "Well, you can go back and tell those pricks I’m doing my job. I’m fighting the good fight and I don’t need the fucking Watcher’s Council breathing down my neck. That’s what the vamps are for."

"I’m not here with the Council."

Faith stopped in an instant. "Huh? You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought you were their prodigal son. The new age of their precious world. You mean you’re the one going all renegade?"

"Faith, what happened to Rosalie?"

The Slayer kept on talking without registering the question. "Did they keep you at that desk too long? Thought they could kill the fire. But they couldn’t…you like it rough." A grin. "I bet you like it real rough. Quiet ones always do." A pause. "Did you say Rosalie?"

"Is she…okay?"

"Jailbait’s alive and kicking…how’d you know about Rosalie?"

"We’ve met." A wave of relief washed over him with the news.

"What are you doing here?" Faith asked as she began untying his binds.

"I haven’t much time. They’ll be back in about ten minutes and I can’t let them see me here."

"What’s—"

"Zack—"

"Is dead."

"Is not!"

"Trust me. I went with Wright this morning. That bastard is nothing but a pile of dust." 

"It wasn’t him," he spoke just as she released him. He hopped off the ground to face her. "He’s alive."

"How?"

"Wolfram and Hart. They were there."

"And where were you?" She wrinkled her nose as she caught the stench on his skin and clothing. "The sewer."

Hunter shrugged. "Rubbish pile."

"He…he’s not dead?" Faith looked toward the street with a glimmer of fear. "This bites."

"Quite possibly literally."

Faith looked back at the man. "Don’t tell them."

"What?"

"They’ve all started grieving the prick. I’ll run out and finish the job and they’ll be none the wiser."

"I’m not sure this is—"

"Trust me." She looked to the sky. "The sun will be setting within the hour. He’ll come out ready to give us a surprise and that’s when I’ll give him his: a stake to heart. All this fancy, emotional shit keeps failing. Time to go back to basics."

"Faith—"

"I mean it! Get the fuck out of here, Nick. Go back to where you were hiding and let me do this." Faith knew it was more than her need to slay. Her guilt about Rosalie had made this personal. More personal than the bite on her neck. "Five by five."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"God, you need a shower."

Hunter’s cheeks reddened. "Good luck, Faith."

She looked at him one last time. "You too, Nick."

As the van made its turn down the street, the back courtyard of the Hyperion was empty. Just as it was twenty minutes previously. 

*~*~*

Wright tensed as Spike landed on the bottom step. "How is she?"

The vampire’s eyes traveled upward. "Don’ know," he replied. "She’s not talkin’ to me. Buffy’s been in there for about an hour now, though I don’ ‘spect much talking’s been goin’ on. It’ll be a while before she’s ready to chat anyone up, I’d wager." He set his gaze on Wright once more. "We’re all right, you an’ I. I don’ figure you rightly care too much what I think, but for what he did to…"

Wright’s face hardened. "For what he did to Rosalie, he’s fucking lucky I only got to kill the fucker once. She doesn’t cry, Spike. She hasn’t cried in years. Not since…not since Amber died. Not for a cut or a bruise, or when she had bad dreams, or faced monsters that would make grown men wet themselves. Not even when she broke her leg and collarbone fighting the Palagorah when she was eight. Not one tear. Not my Rosalie. She’s too brave…too strong…too…" His voice cut off when he realized he was seconds away from another breakdown. He’d already had his cry, which came right before the three-hour workout in the basement. Cordelia stopped him when she saw his hands were bleeding from repeated slams into the punching-bag, and quite possibly the wall. "I saw her cry tonight. If I could have broken Zack apart bone by bone, I would have. He got off too easy for what he did to her."

"Agreed."

Wright glanced up sharply. "Gotta say, I thought you were going to come down here and feed me righteous shit about how it wasn’t my decision to make."

Spike arched a brow. "Look, mate…Zangy was like a brother. He was…well, I din’t remember you, an’ he was the best friend a bloke could ask for. But I’ve been around for sodding ever. I know when it’s over." A sigh. "He lasted longer because of me. Because of me an’ Buffy."

"And Kelly."

The vampire paused then shook his head. "No," he replied. "It’s because of us, see. We coulda seen what would happen if we’d just…but we din’t. We din’t sit down with her…let her know what might come outta this bloody mess. We just kept hoping that what we knew would happen wouldn’t. An’ it did. ‘Course it bloody did. No one could stop it."

"Buffy stopped it once."

"By killing Angelus."

"Big fucking waste, that."

Spike snorted appreciatively. "Right. The point, though, we killed it by killing it. An’ we figured we could handle it properly with Red wavin’ her magic wand. Doesn’t work like that. These gits…Wolfram an’ Wankers know how to play. They took away Zack’s sparkly an’ boxed out the only living person who’s ever played musical souls. The Slayer an’ me forgot…pride an’ all that. Before the fall."

Wright nodded. "We underestimated them."

"Right."

"They knew enough to separate us all those years back."

"We bested them once," Spike agreed. "Getting Buffy back…makin’ her stronger than before. They din’t see that coming, an’ it brassed them off something awful. They separated us an’ planned somethin’ bigger. They just din’t figure I’d find your brother, or anything that happened after. But they were prepared an’ knew what would come of it if the lot of us ever wound up in the same room. They were prepared."

Wright inhaled sharply and nodded. "Getting my brother back was never an option, was it?"

Spike was silent for a long minute, his eyes heavy and burdened. "If it was, we missed it. We were looking too bloody hard to see our chance."

There was a pause, but before Wright could continue, the stairs creaked delicately with the weight of a young girl’s footsteps. Both men turned. Rosalie stood in a worn pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt, her hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail which did nothing but accentuate the angry purple bruises and red-veined scars marring her skin.

"Hey kid," Wright said softly, doing his best to hide how looking at her broke his heart. "Why aren’t you resting?"

Rosalie shrugged and itched at her arms. "Can’t rest," she replied. "I tried, but every time I closed my eyes…" She shuddered. "I…ummm…Kelly’s okay, isn’t she?"

Spike smiled best he could. "She will be, pidge," he assured her. "It’s better now. It’s finished, yeah? She can start to move on, an’ that’s something she couldn’t do with Zangy running around out…" He trailed off awkwardly and suddenly his eyes had nowhere to focus. "Well."

"I’m okay," Rosalie replied. "Really. I think…I think…it hurt, but he didn’t do as much…" She shivered and looked away again. It was a second before she recovered, licking her lips and tucking strands of fallen hair behind her ear. "Ummm, where’s Faith?"

At the mention of the other Slayer, Wright’s expression hardened. "It doesn’t matter."

"No, it really does."

"She got you hurt."

Spike’s brow furrowed sympathetically. "Zack…"

"She got you hurt."

"No, she didn’t. She just went out with me." Rosalie shivered again and crossed her arms. "I was going to leave one way or another. She thought it’d be better if she went with."

"Bullshit," Wright spat. "She’s a fucking slayer. She could’ve stopped you."

"Yeah," Spike agreed wryly. "An’ then you’d be all in a huff ‘cause she broke Rosalie’s arm tryin’ to get her to stay here. Bitch she might be, she did what she thought was right for you an’ her. It wasn’t her fault they got tossed apart."

"You can’t possibly—"

"I did the same for Buffy’s kid sis back in the day. Bit would sneak out of her house an’ I’d act as sitter so she din’t get herself in a world of hurt, an’ it din’t always work. Faith just wanted to make sure your girl din’t get hurt." He shrugged. "You can’t blame her for what he did, mate. No matter how sodding easy it makes it."

"Trust me."

A new voice. Spike glanced up and met Buffy’s eyes.

"Dawn would sneak out to prove how much of a grown-up she was and land herself in trouble." She smiled weakly. "If Spike hadn’t tagged along, there’s no telling how very dead she might’ve wound up. Had Faith not been there last night, those demons might have finished Rosalie off before Zack had the chance to…do what he did."

Wright was quiet for a period after that, the hard resolute look in his eyes refusing to budge. He very clearly did not wish to release his outrage, and under the circumstances no one could blame him. Instead, he glanced down again and drew in a deep breath. "How’s Kelly?" he asked.

Buffy licked her lips and turned to make her way down the stairs. "She’s actually all right," she said. "I think…I think she knew it was going to happen like this, especially after the fire. I couldn’t…she hasn’t cried much. She just…she just asked if Rosalie was all right, and that was enough." The Slayer took a seat at the arm of the sofa beside Spike, who took her hand immediately. "To answer your question," she said to the girl, "I have Faith walking the perimeter of the hotel. Wolfram and Hart have us under surveillance."

"I think they think we’re going to try something radically stupid," Wright drawled. "Or they’re looking for a way into the Hyperion for Cordelia."

Rosalie’s eyes went wide. "You think they’d do that?"

"Why not?" her father replied. "Their secret-weapon is a big pile of dust. There’s nothing left for them to try except forcing their way in here. And if they do, they’ll be well-armed."

"More to tear off, then," Spike concluded. "If they try to get in here—"

"I’ll kill whoever touches her." The look in Wright’s eyes was downright frightening. "I don’t give a fuck what they are. Demon, human, vamp, the goddamn Easter Bunny…anyone tries to get in here, anyone looks at her…and I’ll kill them." 

Buffy smiled softly in agreement. She looked old in that minute. "In the meantime, we need to be ready."

Rosalie nodded, then turned and started for the door that led to the courtyard. 

"Where are you going?"

She turned around and blinked at her father. "To see Faith."

"Rosie—"

"I’ll be fine, Dad," she said. "It’s just outside."

"Where Wolfram and Hart is doing active surveillance."

"Where Faith—"

"Forgive me if that doesn’t inspire much comfort."

"Zack," Buffy said gently, an understanding look filling her eyes. "You can’t protect her from the world’s evils. She’ll end up getting hurt anyway…and what’s more, she’ll resent you for trying. Believe me. It’s a lesson I learned the hard way with my sister."

There was no leeway in Wright’s eyes. No want of understanding, no willingness to see the logic behind her words. But when Buffy refused to waver, a calm rolled over him no one could have anticipated. Inhaling deeply, he turned back to his daughter and nodded. "All right," he said. "All right."

Rosalie smirked. "Good, ‘cause I was going anyway. Ten feet out the door won’t kill me."

"Now don’t go Sunnydaling yourself," Buffy warned wryly. "I won’t help you there."

The girl chuckled and waved a hand. "Duly noted."


	25. Chapter 25

There should have been no surprise. After all, she had just essentially Sunnydaled herself. As it was, she had learned from her ordeal never to walk even a short distance away from home without protection. Hell, she’d probably have a stake holstered to her side at all times. A stake or, if this guy proved to be as human as he looked, some sort of firearm.

As it was, a stake might not be the preferred weapon of choice, but it would do well to get the message across. Wood through the heart would kill a human just as well as anything else. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded, raising the stake high above her head.

The man winced at the shrill in her voice, his hands coming up. "Keep it down."

Rosalie’s eyes widened. "The fuck you tell me to keep it down! I’m so fucking sick of this bullshit. Now back the fuck off and give me one fucking reason not to stab you in the fucking chest."

"I see you’ve inherited your father’s wide vocabulary."

Her eyes blazed brilliantly at that. "Talk about my father, and I’ll cut off your dick and shove it down your throat. What the fuck are you doing here?" A pause. Before the man could think to react, she held up her other hand. "Wait. You were there."

"I was what?"

"In the alley. I saw you." She frowned. "You…you tried to…you jumped on him. You tried to help me." A long, shaky moment passed between them—one in which they did not know each other. Finally, a shuddering breath rushing between her lips, Rosalie cleared her thoughts with a shake of her head, her wide eyes full of wonder. "Who are you?"

"A friend," the man assured her quickly. "If you believe nothing else, believe that. I mean you no harm."

Rosalie’s eyes narrowed incredulously. "You just happen to be around every time I get attacked." She gave him a once-over. "And you look like you just crawled out of LA’s shittiest dumpster."

"Some things are coincidences."

"Some things lead to restraining orders." She surveyed the terrain. "Where’s Faith?"

The man stopped short. "Sorry?"

"Faith. My height? Dark hair? Pretty? Oh, and did I mention, able to kick your ass with her mind?" 

"She’s gone."

The humor abandoned Rosalie’s eyes. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing!"

"I swear—"

"She went to kill Zack."

Everything fell still. Rosalie’s blood ran cold. "Bullshit."

"Rosalie—"

"BULL FUCKING SHIT!" The stake came forward again without thought, the pointed tip suddenly at the fleshy part of the man’s jaw, threatening to push upward with the slightest move. "Zack’s dead," she spat. "He’s fucking dead. I saw the dust. My father—"

"Wants to know what the fuck is going on."

Rosalie didn’t bother. She knew it was only a matter of time before Wright and the others followed her outside. And what a sight to stumble upon. His wounded daughter holding a strange man prisoner, her trembling hands threatening to thrust upward and end a human life with the slightest jerk. Perhaps she was unstable; Rosalie didn’t know. All she knew was too much had happened in the past day. Too much to her, too much to her family. And that was precisely when this prick started following her around. 

"H-hello, Mr. Wright," the man said awkwardly. "Nice to meet you."

Her father reacted just the way she predicted. "Who the fuck is this?" 

"My name is Nicholas Hunter," the man squeaked. "I’m an ally."

"What’s an ally doing sneaking around?" Buffy demanded.

"Spike," Wright said slowly. "Buffy…Cordy. Upstairs. Go."

"I’m not here for Cordy!"

Wright stormed forward, withdrawing a small, handheld crossbow from somewhere on his persons. In a blink it was aimed squarely at Hunter’s head. "Don’t you FUCKING say her name!" 

"It’s Faith," he insisted. "She’s gone. She went out hunting. Zack…he’s not dead. He’s alive. They came back for him. They came back and put another vamp in his place." 

"An’ you are trustworthy because…?" Spike asked dryly.

"I’m Nicholas Hunter."

"Yeah," Buffy replied. "You said that part already."

Hunter’s brow furrowed in rapid concentration. "Mr. Giles! He’ll know me. He’s here, isn’t he?" Without awaiting a response, he bounced on the heels of his feet and began shouting, "Rupert! Rupert! Are you in—"

The next face to make an appearance wasn’t Giles, but it seemed to serve a purpose just the same. Wesley appeared out of thin air, a large axe in his grip. Apparently, he’d heard the commotion and was ready to do serious harm. That was until he saw who was at the end of Rosalie’s stake. "Oh," he said shortly. "Nicholas."

Buffy whirled around. Spike followed with a curious arch of his brow. "You know this git?" he asked.

"Yes. I’m a member of The Daily Watcher." Wesley paused at that and flushed. "It’s an online newsletter that allows me to keep in contact with select members of the Council, Rupert included." He nodded at Hunter. "Nicholas is one of the younger watchers. Head of his class, from what I recall. We’ve chatted a few times through Chatter Watch…the messaging service." His skin reddened even further. "Which doesn’t explain what he was doing here."

There was a long pause during which Hunter’s eyes visibly searched for a viable answer. Then, as though struck by divine intervention, he exclaimed, "Faith!"

"Faith?" Wesley echoed.

"Yes. The Council sent me here to assist her…and Mr. Giles." Hunter shook his head. "We’re wasting time. I came to…Faith went after Zack. I witnessed his rescue by Wolfram and Hart. They placed a decoy vampire on the scene to provide authentic dust. Some woman and Derek Morris were there with a rescue squad." Hunter’s eyes bounced from face to face. "Someone needs to help her. He’ll have been rejuvenated, and I doubt any of you have slept much in the past few days."

Wright seemed to take this into consideration. Then, taking Hunter by the scuff of the collar, he shoved the man into Wesley’s arms. "Put him in the cage."

Wesley’s face distorted in disgust. "Good Lord."

"Sorry for the smell," Hunter grunted before frowning and glancing back to Wright. "Did you say cage?"

Ignoring him, Wright turned to Rosalie. "I want you upstairs with Cordelia."

"But—"

"No. For me, kid. You might be ready, but I’m not. I can’t have you out there just yet. Just stay here for me." He turned to Buffy and Spike. "Mount up. We’re going out."

*~*~*

 _Power._ Rich, unadulterated power. Power like the sort that rippled through the earth when lightning struck fresh soil. Power like the sort that ripped towns in half and buried entire continents under water. Power. Oh God, she’d missed power. How could she be expected to survive on the stuff she’d relied upon for the past few years when this was out there? When she could have this whenever she wanted?

"Oh yeah," Willow drawled, raising her hands to eye-level and admiring the sparks of blue energy flowing between her fingers. Her skin was burning, but the burn felt amazing. The sort of burn for which any junkie would kill. "This is more like it."

A ripple tore through the ground. Fear. She felt it. She smelled it. She tasted it. Fear. Hot, cold, sticky, silky…it came in so many forms, but each felt right. Each lingered deliciously in her mouth. Each filled her with more power.

Power.

"Willow?"

Oh. Right. The mission. Tear down the wall. Piece of cake. She turned, her black hair flickering across her face. Their gasps of horror only fueled her determination. "See?" she asked, her voice careless. "What’d I tell you? Nothing to worry about."

"Oh God," Sam whimpered.

"No worries, baby," she assured him, lifting herself weightlessly into the air and turning again to the invisible barrier. "Mama’s got it all under control."

Her hands skimmed the invisible facade, and for the first time it appeared solid beneath her fingers. A long crack tore across the surface, birthing thousands of others in every which direction. It was so simple it nearly shamed her to think it’d taken so long to reach the inevitable conclusion. Within seconds it had shattered into a thousand shards of broken mirror. Something so strong rendered ineffectual in a heartbeat. She giggled and plunged her hands into the previously forbidden terrain without as much as a shock. It was gone. This thing her weaker incarnation couldn’t dream of defeating.

Willow. Sniveling, pathetic, doe-eyed Willow. Sitting there all this time with so much power at her fingertips without being woman enough to seize it. God, what had she been thinking? Wolfram and Hart wouldn’t dream of taking her on like this. She’d wipe them off the map—both temporal and the ecclesiastical.

"Presto," she sang, twirling in the air to face her traveling companions. "Wall go down."

They all stood dumbfounded, staring at her. And she felt another charge of fear.

_Fear._

"Oh come on. You gotta admit that was pretty wicked."

"Wicked’s definitely a word coming to mind at the moment," Josh agreed, taking a tentative step forward. He had Donna right behind him, his arm extended as though to prevent her from moving forward without his permission. As though he was protecting her from something.

Protecting her from Willow.

"Guys," Willow chided, wagging her finger. "Really, I was wrong. Totally wrong. I’m fine. See?" She extended her arms and whirled again. "This is fine."

"Yeah, well, you did what you said you wanted to do," Josh continued. "How about we get the redheaded Willow back?"

"Why?" she retorted sharply, eyes flaring. "I’m fine."

"Oh God," Sam murmured again. "Willow…"

"Come on! Wolfram and Hart wouldn’t dare take me on like this." She flattened her right hand against and uncurled her fingers, conjuring a ball of fire into her palm. "I could kill any of them right here. Standing right here. Or floating, as the case may be."

"That wasn’t the plan," Donna objected.

"Plans change."

"Not this one."

"Yes, this one." Willow lowered herself to the ground. "You don’t know power like this."

"I don’t want to."

"Oh yes you do. And it’s mine. It’s all mine. It always has been." Electricity fired again between her fingers. "It stays mine."

Not with them. No, no, no. Weakling Willow had given them the means to destroy her. Weakling Willow had created the Destroyer. And she’d given it to the blonde. She’d given it to Donna.

Donna, who was now reaching for her pocket.

"Don’t think so," she growled. And before anyone could react, Donna was on the ground thirty feet away, her body smoking, unconscious. Willow gave her a finger wave, turning back to the others. "Okay. Who’s next?"

*~*~*

"The wall is down."

It amazed Derek that anyone, least of all Lilah Morgan, could look so cavalier in uttering those words. The wall was the only thing keeping the witch from getting access to Zack’s soul, and Zack’s soul was the only card he had left on the table. If his son didn’t get his act together and deliver Cordelia’s bastard child, untainted by the earth’s impurity, it didn’t matter how many walls were put up or knocked down.

"Well," Derek shrieked. "Put it back up!"

Lilah shook her head, taking a seat behind her desk. "That wall was built by use of independent contractors," she said. "We have no means to reinstate it. And even so, it was meant to come down eventually."

"Yes, after Cordelia’s dead and my contract is paid."

The woman burned him with an icy look. "That’s right, Mr. Morris. Your contract. The contract we have no obligation in helping you fulfill. We’ve already done more than our fair share, and I wouldn’t want word getting to the Senior Partners that you’re at all ungrateful. That certainly wouldn’t bode well for you, especially after all of the hand-outs we’ve issued over the past few years."

Derek shut up immediately, fear freezing his veins. "I wouldn’t want to appear ungrateful."

"Then I suggest you sit down and shut up." Lilah rolled her eyes, reaching for the phone a second before it rang—or so it appeared with the intensity of her reflexes. "Morgan." A smile touched her face. "Yes. Thank you."

"What?" Derek demanded as she hung up.

"You know," she mused, returning to the papers she’d been signing when he first entered the room, "I don’t seem to recall inviting you into my office."

"Well—"

"Willow knocked down the wall exactly as we hoped she would. If she manages to return to herself without, oh say, dying a horrible death, there will be nothing left of her powers." She smiled slyly. "Not, at least, for a very long time."

"So—"

"Another word, Mr. Morris, and I could persuade security to shove you face-first through my window. And I’d really hate to do that. It’s a bitch to replace."

Derek immediately shut up, and Lilah returned to work.

In silence.

*~*~*

A cage. He came here to watch after Rosalie, and he wound up in a cage. Stinking of fish, trash, fast-food containers, and an assortment of other violent scents. His hair was matted with bloodied dirt and quite possibly fecal matter. The shower for which he’d longed was nowhere in sight.

This was not the path he’d seen himself taking.

A door clanked and light poured into the basement. Hunter winced and edged to the far corner of the cage. "Hello?"

No response. Footsteps. Then she was in sight.

"Rosalie."

And she’d brought him food.

"Move to the back corner," she instructed, not meeting his eyes.

"Rosalie, you know I’m not whatever it is your father thinks I am."

"Move."

Hunter swallowed hard and nodded, doing as she asked. "Right," he said. "I’ll do as you ask…just please, see about getting me a shower. I smell like a bloody sewer. You can…have someone there, Wesley, if you like, with a crossbow on me at all times. I just need to clean myself."

Rosalie reached through the bars and dumped a few small packages—what looked like homemade sandwiches—onto the ground. Then she moved away, not saying a word.

"Rosalie, please."

She disappeared into the shadows but didn’t move upstairs. Hunter inhaled sharply and moved toward the edge of the cage again. And before he could issue another plea, the sound of a creaky faucet turning echoed through the basement. It hit the bottom of what sounded like a rustic container and ran for several seconds before cutting off again. When she stepped once more into view, a bucket was in her hands.

His eyes went wide. "Rosalie—"

His pleas were futile. A faceful of water served as reward for his efforts.

"There," she said shortly. "There’s your shower. Eat up."

She turned away and disappeared again, this time up the stairs.

Leaving Hunter wet, cold, and with a soggy dinner.

"Thank you," he called after her.

*~*~*

There were a thousand and one places to hide in Los Angeles on the west side alone, but Faith didn’t need to hunt. Not that she wasn’t familiar with hunting—it wasn’t a talent that went away, no matter how many years passed without practice. More she knew exactly where Zack would be and why he would be there. Call it a hunch or Slayer senses, she knew.

She just didn’t know what to expect when she arrived.

The girl wasn’t dead, and that was what truly bothered her. She was strung up in much the same manner Wright had strung up his brother, her naked skin a patchwork of scars and bruises. A canvass for an artist finding and honing his craft. Her blonde hair was matted with twigs and blood, her eyes glossed and heavy. Her breasts were torn and decorated with bite marks. Fresh blood ribboned down her legs from where he’d ripped into her vagina. The hole in her gut left a trail of organic tissue lying limp out of the flaps of broken skin. He’d ripped out her appendix with his hands. Her appendix and perhaps something more.

And he wasn’t finished.

"Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go." Zack carved a smile into Nikki’s belly with what appeared to be a broken beer bottle. He turned to face the Slayer with an eager grin. "I’d hoped it’d be you, Faith. Start at the bottom and work your way up. You don’t wanna peak too soon." He hopped down from the crate on which he stood, twirling the bottle in his hand. "Plus, Nikki was a lousy fuck…but you weren’t. I’m just dying to taste that pussy again."

"Yeah, well, I’m not one to climb on the same mechanical bull more than once." Faith forced her eyes away from the bleeding girl and met Zack’s unblinking eyes. "You sure do got a major wood for death, though, don’t you? Keep makin’ with the big shebang and even though your puppet-master clapped to make you better again, and you come back here. What? Did your big bad brother not tear the stuffing out of you quite enough the first time?"

"You’re the one who followed me."

"I got no sentimental attachment to you, boy. Wright had the right idea. Just didn’t stick around for the sun to come up."

"You see, I keep getting these death threats and nothing comes from them."

Faith shrugged. "Like I said, I got no sentimental attachment. You’re a whiny baby vamp with a good budget and a fucked over god complex. I ain’t Buffy. I ain’t Spike. I ain’t your Kelly, neither. You’re nothing to me."

"Yeah, but if you kill me you got the others to answer to."

She laughed. "Don’t you get it? They already think you’re dead. I’ll just be makin’ their belief a fact." She shook her head. "We told them. Kelly didn’t even cry. Kinda weird, don’t you think? A girl who cries as often as that not shedding a tear for your precious hide." Faith shrugged. "Guess she doesn’t care too much after all. Or maybe she’s already moving on. Go fucking figure. But the point is, you’re already dead to her. You’re already dead to everyone. I’m the only person who knows you’re standing here and not floating in the air giving some kid an asthma attack."

Zack’s eyes darkened. "You’re lying."

Faith shrugged again. "Got no reason to lie."

"Bullshit. You got every reason. If you keep me thinking that they won’t care, I—"

She reached behind her and brandished a pistol. A pistol. Colt .45. And she aimed.

"They won’t."

Zack’s eyes flickered between her face and the gun. Then he snickered. "What, are you retarded?" he demanded, laughing. "Unless you have wooden bullets—"

"Don’t worry, sweet-pea," she drawled. "This isn’t for you." 

Her aim zeroed on Nikki. It was amazing how quickly a human life could become nothing more than a memory. The girl hung by hooks Zack had pierced through her shoulder blades and palms, her body a memo in the making. Her insides were spilling out, her private area had been destroyed by repeated assault, and if she had been in the position to feel pain, it wouldn’t have been much longer. The girl was dead where it counted, even if her body remained alive. And remained alive it had…longer than it should have. It had suffered Zack’s whimsy only to come to an end with Faith’s bullet. A bullet that shot through her head and decorated the back of the brick wall with brain. 

She was gone.

Zack roared in fury, yellow eyes blazing as his fangs descended. "Fucking cunt!" he snarled. "That was mine!"

Faith aimed and shot again, this time for the vampire. The bullet snagged his shoulder and forced him onto the pavement. By the time he’d leapt up again, she had a stake curled in her grip.

"You really wanna do this?" Zack snarled.

"Oh," she retorted. "You bet your ass."

They came together in a fury of movement, and the alley walls quickly began to howl.

*~*~*

In the end, it was a surprisingly easy decision to make. No tears or second-guesses. No lapse to remember the sort of woman Willow had been. No round-robin decision. It was simply a matter of survival, and in such times, the human will to keep on going was always the victor. Willow had known, of course. It was why she’d warned her. Why she’d placed the Destroyer into her hands. Why Donna was here at all, clutching the small gem as though the world depended on it—which, incidentally enough, it did.

"I love her," Sam shouted over the escalating wind. It wasn’t a plea for mercy, rather a statement. "I do love her, Donna."

Donna nodded, tears plastered to her cheeks. "And she knows that."

_If you need to use it… You’ll know what to do._

And the amazing thing was, she did. She knew. It wasn’t difficult. It wasn’t anything. It was as simple as throwing a tennis ball.

Only it was a gem instead.

The Destroyer ignited the second it hit open air, a green power wave exploding from its center. Willow’s voice died immediately, the ground shaking with the weight of her fall.

And when they braved the odds to look, the witch was lying limp on the ground. Her hair red. The veins on her face receding.

Totally motionless. Totally without life.

Totally human.

"Willow!" Sam gasped, leaping to his feet.

Josh tugged on his shirt. "Sam!"

But the man could not be stopped. He sprinted across the ground and collapsed at Willow’s side, pulling her into his arms.

Sobbing.

*~*~*

It was late when Lilah decided to go home for the night. Around eleven-thirty, she had Derek forcibly removed by security. At eleven-thirty, she ordered cocktail and watched the last of the Late Show. At midnight, there was a knock at the door.

"Make it quick," she answered, facing the window as she gathered her things.

"I never do." 

Lilah paused and turned around. "Zack," she acknowledged, tilting her head. "I take it you’re here to give me good news?"

The vampire nodded and licked his lips, eyes sizing her up. "Nikki’s dead," he assured her. "And Faith."

"Faith?"

"Bitch took the kill from me, but I got her. Fuck yeah, I got her. Strange thing, though." Zack grinned slyly and took a step forward. Then another. Then another. And again until he was right up against her. Until he was breathing unneeded breaths against her lips. "Not satisfied."

His mouth came crashing down hers without warning, though for the way Lilah responded, she was well-prepared. She helped him slide her pantyhose down her legs, tore at the buckle on his belt, and met him with a greedy smile as his cock slid inside her.

"Knew you wanted it," Zack whispered, taking her hard onto the floor.

Lilah was a woman who showed no emotion. Tonight, he was determined to make her scream.

Again and again. Scream herself hoarse.

Scream until she begged for more.

*~*~*

Somewhere in a nondescript alley lay the bloodied, broken body of a vampire slayer.

The sun was rising. Her heart was slowing. Her eyes were open and fixed on an empty can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. Such a strange thing to be looking at during one’s last minutes.

Faith stared, feeling her body abandoning her. Her sense of self drifting away.

Pride cometh before the fall, and Lord knows she’d had a ton of it.

She would be gone before they found her. She knew it.

She just wished she could apologize.


	26. Chapter 26

Kelly hadn’t remembered falling asleep. She remembered hearing the news. She remembered wanting to take Rosalie in her arms and cradle her though she knew it was not her place. She remembered feeding the children and sitting them down to explain that Daddy would never come home again. She remembered all of the comforting hugs and pats with lack of any eye contact. She remembered going to her room to grab a shirt for her daughter. She never remembered falling asleep.

Looking at the clock, it was nearing midnight. She pulled herself from bed with a renewed energy. Her anxiety was gone with the sad realization that Zack wasn’t there to hurt anyone else. All there was left was grief. She was a widow now. A widow with two confused and lost little children.

She was grateful for the village surrounding her. She had Spike and Buffy; her family. They would hold her hand as long as she let them. They loved her and her children and would be there until the end of time. There was Giles. The dad she always wanted. Rosie and William’s Papa. There was Melody. She regretted so much that she and Zack had waited until the end to let her back into their lives. They never should have stayed away so long.

Then there was her new family. Zack Wright was an amazing man. She didn’t think she could ever look at him without seeing her husband. Without seeing the man that should be alive. The man who should be looking back at her. Zack always wanted a sibling and life was too cruel to wait until his final days to grant him his wish.

Rosalie. She was so special. She reminded her of both Zacks. Her spunk and drive. Her strength was something she envied. The ability to not cry. To hold the tears in so that the world saw you as pillar of strength instead of an emotional train-wreck. She was afraid to look at the child. Afraid that the girl hated her, blamed her for what her husband had done. What Kelly had been too weak to end before Rosalie had been so brutally attacked.

Everyone else at the Hyperion was precious. Cordelia, Fred, Wesley and even Gunn were all amazing in their own unique ways. Kelly just didn’t feel like she belonged. 

Kelly brushed all of her thoughts aside with a shake of her head. Straightening her chestnut locks, she came back to reality. She had two children to care for. She had her friends and family. She would have eternity to grieve her loss. She had eternity to cry. Now was her time for strength. She had the children to think of.

Leaving her room, she traveled downstairs. Sitting in the lobby was Giles, Cordelia and Fred. With a weak smile and a short wave, she made her entrance. "Evening,"

"Kelly!" Giles immediately stood and pulled off his glasses. "I thought you were asleep."

"I crashed. Are the children in bed?"

"Yes, Melody took them to stay in her room tonight."

"Good." Kelly looked to the other two. "Another late night?"

"I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to," Cordelia admitted as she rubbed her stomach. "I feel like this thing is doing the Macarena."

"Does anybody want some tea?" Fred hopped up and headed for the kitchen.

"Yes, yes," Giles replied. "I’ll help you."

After they left the room, the vampire went to sit by her friend. "So…"

"So…"

"How’s Rosalie?"

"She’s okay," Cordelia said softly. "She’s going to be okay."

"Good. She’s a wonderful girl."

"Your children are precious." Cordelia smiled. "I hope this one is as sweet as yours."

Kelly smiled. "I’m sure it will be."

"How are you doing?"

"I’m okay." A pause. "Cordy, where is everyone at?"

The Seer’s demeanor changed. "What do you mean?"

"Buffy, Spike, Wright, Faith…" The vampire sniffed the air. "Wesley, Gunn and Nikki I believe, too. They’re gone. Where are they?"

The woman looked away. "Patrolling I guess. Wolfram and Hart is still out and about."

"Why are you lying? Something’s wrong. Isn’t it?"

"Kelly—"

"Cordelia, believe it or not, I’m not a child. After the past few days, I think I can handle anything you could throw at me."

Cordelia looked in the woman’s eyes. In that instant, she believed it. "Zack’s not dead. It was a setup. He’s alive and Faith is out there alone trying to find him. They went looking for her."

Kelly was silent. She took a slow, steadying breath before she spoke. "I hope they find her before he does."

*~*~*

"Is she dead?" Sam whispered as they stood over the witch’s lithe form.

"I’m not checking for a pulse," Josh croaked.

"I think she’s alive," a bruised and bleeding Donna decided. "Willow predicted this. She said she’d be so weak that she’d likely be unconscious for several hours."

"Why?" Sam asked as he leaned down to check for breathing.

"As Willow explained it, magic isn’t just something she does…it’s part of her."

"Explain," Josh demanded.

Donna sighed. "The magic runs through her. It’s a part of every cell in her body. Draining the magic from her is like draining her of half her life source."

"So we killed her?" Sam asked as he cradled Willow’s head.

"No. She said that if she didn’t die after the initial draining, she would live. Her body would just be weak. It would take her a long time to regain enough magic to function. Let alone perform spells."

"Is this kinda like a magical Star Wars?"

"Josh!" Sam snarled. "Drop the smartass for a moment."

"Sorry, I just thought this couldn’t get any more bizarre."

"Oh God," Donna said looking off at a distant light.

"What?" Both men questioned

"This drained her of all her magic."

Sam looked up at his friend. "Donna?"

"Our protection is gone."

"Our sparkle thing?"

"Shimmer, Josh." Donna saw how quickly the creatures were approaching. "Does the car still work?"

"It should. Josh and I filled it with gas earlier. We just walked to kill time and—"

"We’ve got to go!" Donna ran over and began throwing everything into Willow’s bag. "Get Willow in the car!"

"But you—"

"Now!" She screamed. "Move, move!"

Neither one argued after that. They secured the unconscious witch and then helped with the haphazard cleanup. Then, just as the first wave of demons came onto the road, they began their high-speed journey to L.A.

*~*~*

Hunter wasn’t sure how he’d fallen asleep in the dungeon. Using his messenger bag for a pillow, he curled up in a far corner and passed out from exhaustion. 

"Are you asleep?"

He woke up with a start. "No, no." Sitting up, he quickly surveyed his surroundings. Rosalie was standing before him holding a pillow and blanket.

The young woman was blushing. "I thought you might want…"

"Yes, thank you." He clumsily pulled himself off the floor. "Thank you for dinner as well."

"And the shower?"

"Well, that one I could have lived without."

"Beggars can’t be choosers."

"Indeed."

Hunter began to approach her in order to take the proffered linens. "Get back," Rosalie stammered as he came close.

"Bloody hell!" Hunter grumbled as he turned around and headed back to the corner. "You know bloody well I mean you know harm."

"J-Just get back!"

"Fine!"

"Here!" She staid tossing the bedding inside and turning to stomp up the stairs.

"Wait!" He called in an easier tone. "Any word on Faith?"

Rosalie stopped at the base of the stairs. With a glare she faced him. "Are you like one of her boy toys or something?"

Hunter turned a deep shade of crimson. "No." A pause. "We were sloshed once and…Well, I was sloshed…I believe Faith was just being Faith…" He looked up again and cleared his throat. "No. I’m just concerned about a Slayer being out there alone."

"She’s a Slayer. I think the name alone gives her a fucking right to be alone."

"Not when there’s so much out there."

"Yeah, well. She’s a big girl." With that, Rosalie started to head back up the stairs.

"She’s not the only one I’m worried about," he whispered as he became alone once again.

*~*~*

"Something’s not right," Buffy said hesitantly as they made their way down another deserted alley.

"Keep pickin’ up Zangy’s scent everywhere," Spike drawled as he kept his eyes on the shadows.

"Faith is near," the blond Slayer stated as she moved forward.

Wright checked his crossbow for the countless time. "You think he’s still here?"

"Not really," Spike replied. "But I know he’s been here. I can smell him. And the blood."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Gunn shuddered as they made their way around the corner.

That’s when Buffy felt it. She knew exactly where Faith was at. Only a block away. She didn’t care if it was a trap. Buffy had never felt such a stronger need to be next to another Slayer. Without further explanation, she was running.

"What?" Gunn snapped.

"Go with it," Spike warned as he followed his mate down the alley.

The sprinting was stopped only moments later with as little warning as it had begun. The Slayer and her vampire stood in horror as they discovered the carnage. "Oh God," Buffy gasped as she rushed to kneel beside Faith. "Oh God!"

Wright and Gunn were a few feet behind. They caught up with a frozen Spike, gazing on in unending horror. "Man," Gunn panted as he slapped Spike on the back. "Give a brother a warning next time we’re playing Red Light Green Light. We—"

"Fuck," Wright gasped as he looked up to see the mutilated body displayed before them. "Fucking hell! What did he do to that girl?" He was trying desperately to keep the bile in his throat from taking over.

"Holy shit!" Gunn stammered as he took an instinctive step back.

"Oh, God," Buffy cried as tears came streaming down her face. "I think she’s…"

Spike snapped from his moment of reverie. "Call 9-1-1." He gave a glance to Gunn before turning to Wright. "We need to get the chit down. No way to explain to the coppers what’s happened here."

"Yeah," Wright said weakly. As the walked through the puddles of blood to reach the girl, he could faintly hear Gunn on the phone with the paramedics. The moment he began approaching the body, his mind slowed tuned out the world around it as if focused on one thing: the discolored patch of skin on the woman’s ankle.

"Zangy," Spike said with an oddly pitched tenor. "Is it me or does that look a bit like a—"

"Fyral demon," the demon hunter croaked. "She got it when she turned eighteen. First demon we fought together." Zack surveyed her in a whole new light. The cuts, the bruises. He couldn’t allow it to sink in. "He shot her?"

Gunn was off the phone and on the ground next to Buffy. He had already found the weapon. "Looks like she did."

The sirens were approaching faster than any had suspected.

"Oh God," Buffy choked one final time.

*~*~*

Rosie Morris had learned at a very young age the difference between dreams and visions. Dreams were kid stuff: nightmares or tales of eating popsicles on brand new bicycles. She would awake from them and realize she had been asleep. Even when she was scared and cried for her parents, a small part knew it wasn’t true.

Visions weren’t the same. She didn’t even need be asleep for them to occur. Her body always tingled afterwards in a way she could never recreate. The sensation would leave her momentarily paralyzed as her nerves tried to come back to reality.

Tonight she had awakened with a vision. She had seen her father. Alive. In this building. And she was going to find him.

With the expertise of a child raised by vampires, she quietly pulled herself from bed and made her way out of the room. Tiptoeing down the hall she made her way down the stairs. She could hear conversations as well as her mother’s soothing voice. She didn’t care. It wasn’t them she was searching for. It was her Daddy.

She heard a shout and hid as she saw Rosalie rush out of a room. Rosie recognized the door. It was the door to the room which held her daddy. When the coast was clear she made her descent.

She didn’t expect what she found.

"Oi," the man growled. "If you’re going to spend the entire evening taunting me, then I suggest you get a sodding hobby!"

"Who are you?" Rosie whispered.

"Good God!" Hunter stammered as he looked up the child. "Who are you?"

"R-Rosie."

A light of understanding and sadness passed before the Watcher’s eyes. "Rose Morris."

"Who are you?" Rosie asked unsure as to whether or not to continue her descent down the stairs.

"Nicholas Hunter."

"Why are in a cage, Nicholas Hunter?"

"A question I’ve asked myself several times over the course of the evening."

The girl seemed slightly comforted as she decided to take one more stair down. "Did you do something bad?"

"No," he said gently. "Your family is just being extra cautious right now."

"Because of my daddy."

"Because of the bad people whom have changed your daddy."

"Have you seen him?"

Flashes of their encounter filled his mind as he became instantly aware of the bruises on his flesh. "Briefly."

"Is he here?" She asked looking around.

"No, Rose. He’s not here."

The girl furrowed her brow as she stepped onto the basement floor. "I don’t understand."

"Understand what?" Hunter saw out of the corner of his eye Rosalie’s form fill the top of the stairway.

"Daddy was here."

"Here?"

"I saw him!"

"You saw him?" Then it dawned on him. "You Saw him." He sighed. "You are a Seer as well."

Rosie nodded. She didn’t find that fact as important as understanding her latest vision. "He was here. Crying."

"I’m so sorry," were the only words Hunter could think of in that moment. He looked up at Rosalie. "I’m so sorry."

In the next instant an enormous thunder exploded above them and screams and shouts came crashing down over the heads. "Rosie!" Rosalie snapped at the girl. "C’mon!"

"Rosalie!" Hunter cried, locking eyes with the girl. "Please, come tell me what has happened to Faith."

"I will," she vowed as the two young blonds ran toward the chaos above.

*~*~*

Blood. Blood was life. Blood kept her body animated. Blood made her warm when she was cold. Blood pumped her dead veins with energy. Blood. Warm, sticky, delicious blood. Blood of power. Its scent was tantalizing. And it was on her hands. 

Buffy couldn’t stop shaking. Every muscle in her body contorted, jerking with disgust—disgust at the blood, disgust at her demon’s reaction. The demon’s desire to lick rather than was her hands clean. Her red-smeared hands. God, she needed it off. She needed it gone. It wasn’t hers to take—wasn’t designed to paint her skin. It was Faith’s. It had been taken from Faith’s body, and Faith was where it belonged.

Gasps and strangled cries erupted in a symphony of despair. The room spun. The floor seemed to stretch and her stomach fell. Voices echoed but didn’t solidify. She merely heard noise. And finally, when her jellied-legs hardened, a name scratched at her throat. One name. The reason she was here. The reason she wasn’t with Faith. 

"Cordelia."

"Buffy!" Fred was rushing forward, a blur of motion that wouldn’t take form. "Oh my God…"

"What happened?" Wesley demanded.

Buffy shook her head. "Cordelia!" she barked again. "Where is Cordelia?"

"Upstairs," Fred said uncertainly, and that was it. Buffy tore up the stairs. Behind her, she heard Spike and Gunn explode into the foyer and the screams escalated, unanswered questions flying left and right. It faded into a gentle roar in the distance, Buffy’s legs pumping hard until she flew over the threshold of Wright and Cordelia’s private quarters, where Kelly and Cordelia sat alone.

Cordelia blinked dumbly. "Buff…oh my God, what happened?"

Kelly didn’t need to ask; the understanding in her eyes was deafening. "Zack," she said softly. "Zack happened."

Buffy nodded. "We need to move you," she told the pregnant woman.

"Move me?"

"Somewhere not upstairs. Not only is this your room and the first place they’d look, but it limits escape options considerably." She shook her head hard.

"It’s too close. Whatever they’re planning, it’s too close. We can’t afford to assume anymore." She turned to Kelly. "Will you help her downstairs?"

"Of course. Just tell me…" Kelly took a step forward. "Is Faith dead?"

Tears Buffy had fought so hard to stifle were suddenly spilling down her cheeks. "I don’t know," she replied. "But Nikki…"

"Nikki?" Cordelia demanded, bouncing to her feet as quickly as a woman in her condition could. "Where’s Nikki? What happened to Nikki?"

"She’s dead."

"Where’s Zack?" Cordelia stepped forward as well, placing a trembling hand on Kelly’s shoulder. "Why isn’t he here?"

"Because he took her." 

Buffy was moving again before more questions could be fired. Moving back to the madness downstairs, where Spike and Gunn were fielding questions. 

"Nikki?" Rosalie was screaming, her eyes red and wide, on the brink of tears. But she didn’t cry. She was just screaming. "He killed Nikki?"

Gunn and Spike exchanged a glance, and Buffy instantly knew what they were thinking. Kill was the softest way to describe what Zack had done to the girl. Kill implied some form of mercy, whereas the truth was far less comforting. In fact, they had rapidly determined Zack hadn’t even done that much. He’d given Nikki everything but death. Death had come at Faith’s mercy. Death had stolen Nikki away likely against Zack’s wishes. 

But there was no earthly reason for Rosalie to be haunted with nightmarish images of what her aunt had suffered.

"Yeah," Gunn said softly. "She went quick, though. I think he was too…eager, and killed her faster than he wanted."

The look on Rosalie’s face was far from convinced, but she nodded just the same. It was easier this way—easier to believe the lie than accept the truth. "Where’s my father?" she asked instead, turning pleading eyes to Buffy. "Why isn’t he here?"

"It’s Faith."

The girl choked a tearless sob. "Faith? Did he—"

"No. She’s…" Buffy trailed off, her mind drifting. Faith. Faith had rushed off just around the time their mystery man arrived. Their mystery man had claimed Zack was alive. He’d known—he’d known—God, how had he known?

"Wright took her to the hospital," Spike explained when Buffy said nothing. 

"And Nikki?"

"Dumped," Gunn explained shortly. And that was that. There was no way they would have brought her back here in the condition she was in. 

Buffy was moving again before the ramifications of that admission could sink their weight. She didn’t even realize she was on her way downstairs until Nicholas Hunter’s ragged face was in sight. And then something snapped. Something she hadn’t even felt brewing beneath the surface. Before she could stop herself, she was marching over, her muscled arm ripping the cage door off its hinges. Hunter yelped in surprise and scurried to the corner, but there was nowhere to hide. She had him pressed against the bars, suspended off the air, captured by the throat.

"What do you know?" she demanded, slamming him hard against the iron bars. "What the fuck do you know?!"

"Nothing!" Hunter squealed. "I promise!"

"You knew Zack was alive. How?"

"I was there!"

"With Wolfram and Hart, you mean," Buffy spat. Heat rose in her skin and she became intimately aware of her friends’ incredulous stares, but she didn’t care. Things weren’t adding up. Not with what had occurred since this prick wandered onto the scene. First Rosalie, then Nikki and Faith. Hunter’s presence couldn’t be a coincidence; in her line of work, there were no coincidences. "You were there when they rescued him."

"Yes! But…no, bloody hell!" Hunter squirmed. "Rosalie! Rosalie!"

Rosalie blinked from where she stood idly on the sidelines. "What?"

"Tell her!" Without waiting, he blinked desperately at Buffy and began explaining, "I was there when Zack attacked Rosalie. I tried to stop him. He knocked me out and I woke up when Wolfram and—"

"Bullshit!" Buffy barked. "You were—"

"Wesley knows me!" Hunter insisted, blindly seeking out his colleague’s eyes. 

"Only through Chatter Watch," Wesley said apologetically. His tone at that moment rang like a death sentence. "We never truly worked with each other."

"Which brings me back to you." Buffy offered a saccharine smile and popped Hunter good in the nose, sending his head back into the bars with a deafening crack. "You show up and everything goes from _bad_ to _miserably fucked_. Start talking."

"I don’t know what you want me to say!" Hunter sobbed. "I only came because I thought my help was needed."

"Your help got Faith killed."

Hunter’s eyes went wide with shock. "Killed?"

"Killed?" Rosalie echoed, stepping forward. "You didn’t say killed."

"No one survives that much blood loss, pidge," Spike explained soberly. "Your pap ran her to the doc’s, but odds are agains’ her, if you wanna ask the experts."

"Oh God." Kelly covered her mouth. "Oh God."

Buffy turned back to Hunter. "And Poindexter here is going to tell us what’s next."

"He doesn’t know anything, Buffy."

All eyes turned to the figure standing at the head of the stairs. It was Giles.

"Nicholas is an ally," he continued, trailing down the stairs to join the others. "I called the Council to confirm his orders. He was scheduled to be here, though I don’t think he was supposed to become so brazenly involved in what has transpired." Giles seared the younger man with a knowing look, and in that instant a lifetime of knowledge passed between them. "Beyond what he’s seen, we have no reason to suspect he knows anything of Wolfram and Hart’s plans."

Buffy shrugged and dropped him; Hunter collapsed in a heap at her feet.

"I’m going to see my father," Rosalie announced. "No one try to stop me."

No one would dream of it. Rather, the Slayer nodded. "I’m coming with you." She turned to Spike. "We need muscle here. Cordelia—"

"‘S understood, love."

"You, Gunn, Wesley, Kelly—"

"No," Kelly objected. "I want to see Zack."

"If you want to help Zack, you’ll stay here," Buffy told her. "He’ll feel eons better knowing Cordelia’s well-guarded."

"Are you going to the hospital?" Hunter croaked from the floor. "Because I think I might need a doctor."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You’re fine," she said, though motioned for Giles to help him, which he did with a grimace. After all, the man’s stench was rather ripe, given he’d been beaten, tossed in a garbage heap, beaten, caged, soaked, and beaten again all without the luxury of a shower. She turned to Spike. "I don’t think I need to tell you—"

"Be careful, an’ all that." He smiled. "Trust me, sweetheart."

"We thought he was dead. He has some serious funding."

"He was dead. An’ if he comes here…" A pause; Spike’s eyes sank to the floor, and a pang struck Buffy’s heart. She knew. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, she knew. In the deepest of places, there was a very real part of her mate that would die along with his friend if he was the one to do it. But in the end—if it came to it, Spike understood what was owed versus what was desired. They had danced around the issue long enough.

Zack had to die. No more waiting.

"Be careful, love," Spike said. "Watch out for the Bit. An’ keep an eye on your back."

"He’ll want you," Giles agreed. "If he thinks Faith is dead, you’ll most assuredly be his next target."

"Killin’ a slayer makes you godlike. An’ you’re the bloody pinnacle."

Buffy smiled an unpretty smile. "Oh, believe it…Zack doesn’t want to fight me."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, "but he doesn’ know that yet."

"I’ll be careful."

"We’ll both be careful," Rosalie corrected, turning to break for the stairs. "But I’m leaving now."

"Right behind you, kid," Buffy shouted, taking a quick break to kiss Spike’s lips. It seemed forever had passed since she’d gotten a chance just to kiss him.

It happened just as she turned to follow Rosalie. A pang in her chest. A jolt. A twist of absolute worry. The premonition this might be the last time. The last time she left Spike’s side. The last time she walked these steps. Through everything, they had yet to separate. Not since Zack lost his soul, not since coming to Los Angeles—not really since they returned from England after the last apocalypse. And now she was aiming to go where he wasn’t, and something was off. Something was wrong.

Something whispered she might never get another chance to say goodbye.

She turned back to him and seized him into a hug before tackling his lips again. "Be careful," she whispered furiously when they pulled apart. "Please, Spike."

He smiled and rubbed her nose with his. "‘ll be fine, kitten."

"If it’s him or you—"

He snorted. "Not even a question of that. ‘m no bloody hero, Buffy. You know that better than anyone."

"I’ll make sure of it," Kelly assured her solemnly. "I’ll stake him myself if I must."

Buffy nodded, though her fears weren’t placated. She turned back to Spike and kissed him again. "Just be careful," she said once more.

"Only if you’re doubly so."

She forced a smile at that and nodded. There was nothing else she could do.

Nothing except kiss him again hope her feeling was just nerves. It wouldn’t be the first time she worried over nothing.

As it was, she couldn’t afford to wait her premonition out. Rosalie was out the door, and she needed to follow.


	27. Chapter 27

"We’re going to have to stop somewhere." 

"What?" Josh yelled, tossing a wild glance over his shoulder to Sam, who sat in the backseat with Willow cradled in his arms. "Stop?" 

"She’s freezing. We need to stop somewhere." 

"Oh. Sure. Just make sure it’s okay with the Army of Darkness." He gestured to the demons chasing them in hot pursuit, driving a 1973 Chevy pick-up, of all things. At least it wasn’t decorated with a Confederate flag, else Josh likely would have driven them off the road. "In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t a joy-ride!" 

"I’m getting frostbite just from holding her, Josh!" Sam countered. "We need to stop. She’s going to freeze to death." 

"Josh," Donna said imploringly from the passenger seat, touching his arm. "She’ll die." 

"And if we pull over, the coyote back there catches the roadrunner and we’re all on shit creek." His words, however, were betrayed by the worry lines depressing his brow. Let people say would they would about Josh Lyman, but he would do anything in his power to help someone who needed help. Therefore, cursing wildly under his breath, he made a frantic right-turn off the exit-ramp just as they were about to pass. The hick demons behind them honked wildly and zoomed down the highway, though for the sound of screeching rubber, the random diversion hadn’t bought them more than a few seconds if they were lucky. 

"Go, go, go, go," Donna chanted, bouncing in her seat and pointing. "There!" 

"I see it!" 

"Must go faster," Sam advised, twisted awkwardly in the seat to survey the road behind them. "Must go faster." 

The air split with the wail of the rental’s tires as Josh tore into the parking lot of a Super 8, bouncing hard when he failed to slow for a speed bump. He pulled under the canopied entrance with a jerk. "Move!" he yelled. 

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. With Willow in tow, he hurried into the motel’s lobby, either oblivious or uncaring how it might look to rush anywhere with an unconscious woman in his arms.

Donna hesitated worriedly. "Josh—" 

"Just go!" 

"But—" 

"I’ll be fine. Those things don’t have anything on Harper’s guys on the Hill." He did, however, seize her quickly for a kiss. "I’m right behind you. Go!" 

In the end, choice had little to do with it. The rental took off the second her feet hit the pavement. Sam waited in the lobby, a notably apathetic attendant behind the registration desk. "Where are we?" 

"Room 17." Sam held up the keys with his free hand. "Do you think you can manage to get her on your own?" 

Donna shook her head. "Go. I’ll wait for Josh." 

"Donna—" 

"We’ll be fine. Go." 

Sam nodded meekly and turned to make his way down the corridor, stopping to resituate so that Willow was cast over his shoulder, which, while undignified, made balancing a much easier feat. He fumbled with the room key, struggled with the door, but eventually managed to get them inside, where he quickly began tearing her shirt off her body. 

"You were so brave," he whispered, fumbling awkwardly with the clasp to her bra. "And you did it. You really did it, Willow. Now you gotta wake up so you can see your friends." 

She didn’t offer a response. He hadn’t really expected one, but her skin was freezing and her eyes were closed, and he didn’t know if they would ever open again. Regardless of what Donna had told him—what she said Willow had promised—she was freezing and nonresponsive. And though he couldn’t be sure, he feared her shallow breaths were growing even further apart. They were losing her—they were losing her, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Please," he whispered, his hands turning to her slacks. "Please wake up for me." 

He managed to get one of her legs freed before a voice cleared behind him. Sam whirled around, situating himself protectively between the doorway and Willow’s semi-nude body. "Ahhh…" 

Josh and Donna exchanged a glance. "Are we interrupting something?" the former asked. 

"I swear this isn’t what it looks like." 

"You aren’t violating an unconscious woman?" 

Sam’s jaw went slack. He couldn’t fathom the idea, even as a joke. "Josh!" 

Josh’s hands came up. "I’m just saying, that’s what an uninvolved third party would conclude." 

The other man scowled, his eyes dropping to the satchel in Donna’s hands. "What’s that?" 

She glanced down. "Willow’s bag. The Mary Poppins one? Josh remembered to grab it." 

"Figure as long as the witch is out, we might as well look through her bag of tricks to see if there’s anything we can throw at the flying monkeys." Josh ushered Donna inside, latching the door behind him. "I thought we stopped because she was chilled. Wouldn’t taking off all her clothes exacerbate the problem?" 

Donna rolled her eyes, dropping the bag into one of the chairs beside the door. "I’ll go run the bath." 

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Donna." He turned to glower at Josh. "Avert your eyes." 

"Believe me," Josh said, though he had to snap his head away quickly as though the reminder was the only thing saving him from unwillingly viewing Willow’s intimate flesh. 

"I have the water just a little above scorching," Donna announced loudly. "Sam?" 

"Coming." He quickly finished disrobing the unconscious witch and gathered her into his arms, rushing her into the bathroom. With the way the mirror had fogged even with the door open and the pillars of steam rising off the water, the thought of lowering her into a boiling pot was very disconcerting, but the cold emanating from her body was enough to convince even the most indecisive of Shakespearean protagonists that it was the best option. Thus, with a wince, he tenderly placed her in the tub and prayed it was the right call. 

When he returned to the others, he found Donna waist-deep inside Willow’s satchel with Josh kneeled at his heels, watching her precariously, ready to seize her if she fell inside. 

Sam’s worried eyes shot to the door. "Demons?" 

Josh shook his head. "No. Donna’s checking Willow’s stash to see if there’s anything in there that’ll heal a drained witch." He nodded to the bathroom. "How’s frosty?" 

"Sizzling. God, I hope that works." 

"Are you beginning to see now, at least, why I was a little hesitant to let you and Willow explore your mutual…attraction?" 

Sam shrugged. "That doesn’t matter anymore." 

The other man smiled wryly. "Yeah, when your girlfriend tries to end the world, that tends to put a damper on the relationship." 

"What do you mean?" Sam’s brow furrowed. "Josh, didn’t you hear me? I love her. If not more because of what she did." 

The satisfied look on Josh’s face froze. "What? Near-death experiences a big turn-on for you?" 

"She sacrificed herself." 

"She tried to kill us!" 

"And she gave us the means to destroy her!" Sam waved at Donna, who was edging further into the satchel. "She told us how to drain her powers—entrusted us…hell, she was ready to risk her life for her friends. For her country. For the greater good. She did what she did knowing she might never see the end of this thing, and yes, I love her. I love her more than I could have before…I’ve seen what she can do." 

Josh laughed shortly. "So has half of California!" 

"I’m not going to turn my back on her, Josh." 

"I don’t believe this." Josh threw his hands in the air. "That woman tried to rip your spleen out with her bare hands—"

"That’s overstating it a little…" 

The other man gestured emphatically, so worked up he had to staple his lips together before screaming, "NO IT’S NOT! She tried to kill—" 

"She did it knowing we could kill her. She did it to save the world." Sam glowered at him, his eyes dropping to Donna. "You might want to help her." 

By this time, all that was visible of the blonde were her ankles, which were kicking furiously. Josh immediately leapt to attention, seizing what little was visible of his girlfriend and pulling hard. When she refused to budge, Sam circled the satchel and grabbed Josh by the waist, heaving until Donna’s voice was again audible, book after book spilling onto the dirty carpet. 

Panting, Donna blew a few loose locks of hair out of her eyes and aimed a glare at Josh. "Thank you." 

"I’m sorry," he said sincerely. "Sam and I were talking." 

"I heard." She glanced up to Sam, but said nothing. Her silence spoke volumes. 

"We don’t need to talk about this right now," Sam said, his voice wavering. The bruises patching Donna’s skin made him shaky.

It was just as well. If Donna had wanted to contribute, the inhuman roar in the hall would have assuredly drowned her out. 

"I knew it was too good to hope they wouldn’t find us," Josh murmured, his eyes dropping again to the satchel. "Climb back in, Donna. We’re gonna need all the artillery we can get."

*~*~*

He hadn’t washed his hands. It was something he didn’t notice until he stopped moving, and given the past fifteen years it wasn’t too terribly surprising. He’d come home often with blood on his hands. Demon, human, his own…before Cordelia, it hadn’t seemed to matter. Be it the life he was trying to save or the demon trying to take it, his nights were spent scrubbing his skin clean. The past few years hadn’t been as violent. In the company of friends in a life less chaotic, where the fights weren’t bloody, rather controlled. When he, Wesley, and Gunn went out to fight the good fight, they had a routine. A system. A way by which they knew without needing reassurance that they were going to return victorious. 

After Amber’s death, Wright hadn’t cared how red his hands became. It was deserved. If he was trying to save a life and failed, at least he’d tried. If he was battling the forces of darkness, it served as a well-earned trophy. Now he could barely stand the sight of it. Not when it belonged to Nikki. Not when it was Faith’s. Not when he could have stopped it. Not when it was his fault.

He’d been in her room for ten minutes now, watching the heart monitor spike and fall, his choked throat trying to summon words he was too cowardly to speak face-to-face. Perhaps his history with Faith had clouded his judgment. He’d been a shadow of himself when he knew her before, and there was no reason to ever suspect their one night of debauchery would return to haunt him. If he were truly honest with himself, he’d disliked her presence more for the reminder of what he’d been, not who she was. The outrage at her behavior was less because of how she’d hurt Kelly—though that had smarted like hell—but more for the knowledge that a few years ago, his tactics wouldn’t have differed. If he thought he could get close to the enemy by fucking it, therefore knowing its weaknesses and bringing himself closer to its downfall, there would have been no stopping him. They were tactics not unfamiliar to him. Faith was his reflection, and it bothered him.

She was lying in the hospital bed because of him. He’d done this to her, sure as if he’d given her those scars. And in return, she’d released Nikki from her body’s prison. She’d recognized his little sister as a living being trapped in a dying vessel, who would have suffered God knows how long if she hadn’t shown her mercy.

"Thank you," Wright said hoarsely, his eyes cast downward. "For what you did for her. And me. I know you made a difference." A pause. A shudder. Then, "I’m sorry."

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor didn’t change. Her hand didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t flicker. He received no indication his admission and thanks had been heard at all.

And while it would kill his pride, while it went against whispering his sins in an unconscious woman’s ears, he hoped he was wrong. He hoped she heard.

Everything he said was deserved and true, and Faith had earned his respect.

His respect, and so much more.

"Dad?"

Wright’s head snapped up just as Rosalie burst over the threshold, her panicked eyes making his heart hurt. "Here."

She whirled around, pinpointing him in the shadows. And before he could breathe, his arms were filled with his trembling daughter. She shook hard, hugged him tight, but didn’t cry. Rosalie didn’t cry, after all. Not even when she was terrified. "Good God, when you didn’t come home—"

"I had to bring her here." He nodded at Faith, his chest aching again at the look which befell her face. "I owed it to her."

"How is she?"

That wasn’t Rosalie; Buffy shadowed the doorway, her sad, tired eyes absorbed in the fallen slayer’s form.

"Alive," Wright replied. "They’re calling it a miracle. She was pronounced when we got here…they lost her in the ambulance. But one of the physicians…I don’t know how she did it, but she located a pulse and they were able to get her heart beating again. Right now, they’re just pumping her with blood and fluids and hoping it evens out…but she’s out of danger, far as we can tell."

Buffy smiled humorlessly. "Damned hard to put a slayer down."

"She’ll be okay?" Rosalie asked in disbelief. "But she looks so…"

"Dead," Wright supplied. "I know. They say she’s breathing, but I can’t see it. Can’t hear it. And that machine keeps beeping, so we can assume she has a heartbeat. But she looks…"

"She’ll be fine." Buffy nodded, rubbing her arms. "Believe me. Faith’s the strongest woman I know…human, at least. She’ll be okay."

The look in her eyes, however, remained haunted. As though she couldn’t say the same for herself.

*~*~*

There was a room in the Hyperion no one knew about, namely because Fred had just discovered it. Cordelia was rapidly relocated to the room, accompanied with Gunn, who was to retire in two hours in favor of Wesley’s guard. After Wesley, Kelly would assume position. Then Spike. Then Wright, should Wright be back, and then Buffy. Those who weren’t in the room with her would place themselves strategically throughout the hotel, alert but not conglomerating in one area. If they remained precariously near the newly-discovered room, it would make things all the easier for an onlooker to discover Cordelia’s position. At least now more bases were covered, and hopefully any intruders would be stopped well in advance should they try to gain entry.

Spike sat atop the check-in counter, nursing a bag of blood and doing his damndest to keep from tearing out of the hotel. Something in Buffy’s departure had him worried…there had been a definitive look of goodbye. As though she knew something he didn’t; something she knew she knew, but didn’t know all the same. It was bloody ridiculous to rush to the hospital on a whim, but the longer she was gone, the more concerned he became.

Concerned like he’d been when she was Angelus’s prisoner. When he feared he would never see her again. Never touch her. Never warm under her smile or laugh at one of her quips. Never feel her hands against his skin or her lips against his mouth. She was the strongest person he knew—human or demon, male or female—and his respect for her only supplmented his love for the woman she was. She was brilliant and strong, funny and clever. And he had to keep reciting this to prevent his feet from leading him out the door and to wherever she was. She was could handle herself. God knows, she was the better option to have out there. While she loved Zack like a brother, her sight was clearer where he was concerned. No matter how much Spike knew, a very real part of himself would never recover if he lost his friend. He’d felt it earlier when Wright broke the news the first time. Peace that it was over, but irrevocable sadness that Zack never knew what he meant to him. 

"It has to be you."

Spike glanced up. Kelly had sneaked up on him—not an easy feat. "Hussat?"

She folded her hands and sighed. "I’ve been thinking…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Ever since Zack told us about…" She shivered and glanced away. "No one’s closer to Zack than me, but I can’t do it. I know I can’t do it. Unless he was threatening the kids, I couldn’t. But after me, there’s you. You’re closer to Zack than anyone and…it has to be you. If he were here…if he could talk to us, Spike, I know he’d say the same. He’d want it to be you, too."

Spike inhaled sharply. There was every chance he’d never been uncomfortable in his existence than he was in that minute. "I don’ know if I can."

Her eyes clouded with tears. "You have to, Spike. You—"

Whatever she was about to say was lost forever. The door crashed open in a brilliant blaze and a stake buried itself into Spike’s shoulder. He vamped and crashed over with a roar; Kelly whirled around, fangs descending, her eyes clashing with an unfamiliar brunette’s standing amidst a multitude of SWAT-like invaders.

"Find the Seer," the woman said. Then, aiming a particularly malicious smirk at Kelly, she shrugged and said, "Sorry, honey. Time’s run out."

*~*~*

The night air felt good against her face. Cool. Calming. How the day had gone by so quickly was beyond her recognition, but here she was. At the end of another day. Another day without Willow. Another day with Zack on the warpath. Another day. Another long, sad day. 

Only the feeling that had chased her out of the Hyperion had never quite abated. She still felt on edge. Still felt out of control. Still felt something was going to happen—something that would change the game. She wanted Spike. God, she wanted Spike so badly. Spike had a way of talking her down from her highest points of anxiety. He’d whisper everything would be all right, and she would believe him.

Perhaps it was the hospital. Buffy hated hospitals. Always had. And knowing she was here for Faith, that her words and actions had contributed to what had happened, didn’t help matters. She just wanted to go home and climb in bed. 

She wanted Spike. For the minute, she would have to settle for one of Spike’s cigarettes. Buffy didn’t smoke—hated the habit, quite frankly, but Spike always tasted good after he’d had a nicotine buzz and for whatever reason, the sight and smell weren’t offensive to her whenever her mate’s lips were around a cancer stick. Perhaps because she didn’t live in a world where she had to fear heart-disease or lung cancer; Spike’s taste was always soothing after he’d smoked. It was what drove her at that moment to collect one of the spare fags she kept on her persons from her pocket and light up. The smoke reminded her of Spike and soothed her nerves. Made her feel like he was closer than he was. Buffy sighed and puffed, kicking idly at the dirty pavement and doing her best to keep her mind off what was happening inside the hospital. 

She needed to be here for Faith. For Wright. For Rosalie. She just wanted to go home. 

A shiver raced down her spine, and she knew at once she wasn’t alone. If not for the sudden tingle of her slayer-senses, then certainly for the scent that hit the air. Buffy paused but didn’t freeze. She betrayed no surprise, not even when he began speaking.

"Rough day?"

She was quiet for a long minute, her back to him, her surroundings hardening around her. A dumpster. A drain-pipe. A sewer line. She had her stake, of course, and one of Wright’s swords concealed under her slacks against her leg. Another small dagger was strapped to her left inner wrist. But she wasn’t concerned with weaponry. If Zack was here, it was to send a message, not kill her.

And even if the latter were his objective, he’d have more to worry about than she ever would.

"It hasn’t been one of my favorites," she admitted coolly, taking a long, unconcerned drag off her cigarette. She turned around slowly, relaxing her face, and met Zack’s dancing eyes. He was hunched on the hood of a blue dumpster, watching her with a mixture of sadistic delight and uninhibited lust. Her stomach churned but she didn’t betray it. She refused to betray anything. "If you’re here for Kelly, she’s not—"

"Kelly?" Zack spat, his smirk twisting into a demented laugh. "Kelly’s nothing. Kelly’s a fucking inconvenience, and I’ll get to her when I feel like it. No, sweetheart, I’m here for you. And really, you shouldn’t sell yourself short."

"Trust me." She consigned the cigarette to the pavement and squashed it under her boot. "I don’t."

"I know you don’t, and it’s a helluva turn-on. One of the many reasons your cunt holds more appeal than Kelly’s ever could." His eyes dropped to her center, his tongue taking a disgusting swipe of his lips. "How’s Faith?"

"I think you know."

"Oh, I do. Didn’t get a chance to stay for the big finish, but I figured you guys would be tragically late to do anything about it." He rocked excitedly. "That’s why you’re here, right? For Faith."

"How astute." Buffy smiled without humor. "You killed a slayer, Zack. Must feel good."

"Good doesn’t touch on it, baby." He slipped off the dumpster and rubbed his hands together. "But it left me wanting."

Buffy’s eyes flickered. "Imagine my surprise."

"Something better."

"This is boring. If you’re gonna hit me, hit me. Otherwise, don’t waste my time."

Something stung her neck. Something from far away, something to which her senses reacted when it was too late. And before she could move or even give the notion thought, her limbs stiffened and strength drained. She slammed to her knees with unforeseen force, her vision fading.

"Well," she heard in the distance. "Since you asked so nicely…"

*~*~*

"Oh, God," Hunter moaned as the jets of water and suds of soap slowly took away the foul stench which was radiating from his body. "Rupert, I owe you the world."

"Indeed," the elder replied as he sat on his bed. He listened for a moment to hear the younger man give another sigh of relief and satisfaction. "You do know I never told them the complete story."

"Whassat?"

"I called Owen to ask about your presence and he said the Council was unaware as to your departure. He then reluctantly informed me that they had given you two files for two girls they felt were potential slayers."

"Rupert—"

"I don’t care, Nicholas, what you do concerning the Council. I long ago took the initiative to shake off it’s more…antiquated procedures. But coming to Los Angelus and putting yourself smack dab in the middle of an apocalypse is ridiculous."

"I was going to stay in the shadows until Rosalie was first attacked."

A pause. "Rosalie. She is the girl you came after."

"They never told you?"

"No. Owen is a ponce sometimes and keeps privy all of the important parts of a conversation."

Hunter chuckled appreciatively. "Boy don’t I know."

Before Giles to respond, he heard a tremendous roar of chaos rise from the floors below. Without a blink he grabbed the nearest knife and took off out the door.

Leaving Hunter blissfully unaware.

*~*~*

Zack Morris fumbled his pockets for the ringing phone. There was only one person in the world who was supposed to know the number. "Hey baby," he said as he flipped it open.

"The partners aren’t going to wait," she said curtly.

"I’ve got Buffy."

"We’ll detain her for the moment, but you need to get to the Hyperion now."

"What’s up?"

"We’re taking Cordelia Chase tonight."

"On my way."

*~*~*

"Hurry up!" Josh screamed once more. They had pushed the bed and television in front of the door and a chest across the window. Knowing this was only a temporary solution, they had sent Donna back to the magic bag in order to find some potential tricks to defend themselves.

"Shut up!" Donna shouted as she immersed herself waist-deep inside. "You get down here and see how fast you go!"

"Donna," he said warningly.

"Pull me up!" she shrieked.

Both men reached over to grab her legs. The woman came up with a crossbow and two sword-like knives. "These are our only options." A pause as they listened to the demons making it to their room doors. "That and my magic."

"You know magic?" Sam said apprehensively.

"Willow and Giles have been teaching me a few things ever since we got back from England. They both felt that I possess some magic capability."

Sam looked to Josh with shock. "Did you know this?"

The curly haired man shrugged. "We’ve talked about it some."

"And how is your relationship with Donna different from Willow and I?"

"One, Donna doesn’t go evil. Two, I’m never gonna get elected to public office."

"And don’t expect to ever work for me," Sam grumbled just before the door burst over.

The two creatures were the same that were following them on the highway. The trio quickly grabbed a weapon and stood guard to protect the unconscious witch in the other room. The men awkwardly stood guard with the knives while Donna desperately fumbled with the crossbow.

"Do a spell!" Josh desperately called to his girlfriend.

"I don’t know any defensive spells!" she cried.

"What do you know?" Sam asked as his eyes remained focused on the slow approach of the demons.

"How to make a bed…I can turn the lights on and off."

"Please God! Don’t turn the lights off now!" Josh groaned.

"You don’t know anything useful?!?" Sam shouted.

"Bite me!" the blond countered.

The first demon had enough and ran toward Josh. He was able to awkwardly swing the knife to strike a blow to the horned creature’s shoulder.

Donna, loading the crossbow, began shouting every magical incantation she remembered.

"I really don’t think making the bed is going to stop them!" Sam yelled as he fought the spiked nosed demon. He was able to jab a blow with his knife to a wrist before it gashed a scrap across his side.

Donna muttered something else. "Turn the lights back on!" Both men screamed.

The demons were closer to the bathroom when light returned to the room.

"This could be the time you prove to me how practical this magic stuff you’ve been talking about is." Josh clumsily swung at the angry demon once more, stumbling with the weight in the weapon.

"Aha!"

"That’s not magical," Sam observed just as an arrow sailed by his ear and punctured the demon he was battling in the head. The creature stumbled backward and collapsed on the ground in front of the flabbergasted congressman.

Donna then turned her attention to the demon still pursuing Josh. She didn’t have another arrow and was out of useful known spells. "Distract him!"

"I’m trying," Josh spat. He gave a brief look to Sam, who immediately joined in the fight.

The blond ran over to one of the discarded books and began searching for anything that would help. After a minute of studying the words on the page, she gave one of the spells a try. " _Stupify_!"

Unfortunately, her attention was not focused on the demon when she called out the word.

"What the hell!" Josh cried as he landed across the room, crashing into the wall.

"Oh God," she cried, bring a shaking hand to her mouth. "Sorry." She turned to the demon and repeated the chant with more velocity than before. The creature flew across the room and landed against the armoire. Then, without blinking, Donna picked up Josh’s discarded sword and ran to jab the tip into the demon’s heart. With a final scream of pain, the creature died and left the room in a stunned and broken silence.

Sam was the first to speak. "Donna?"

"Yeah," she panted as he eyes remained on the freshly killed demon.

"Where the hell did you learn that?"

She tossed a glare to boyfriend. "Told you magic was practical."

"That wasn’t magic," he countered as he slowly pulled himself from the ground.

Sam agreed. "That was more like…" He turned to Josh. "You’re sleeping with Xena Warrior Princess."

"And you guys are the two biggest jackasses ever!" Donna shrieked as she turned around to face them. "You call that help! You guys just stood there and mocked me!"

The room phone rang and interrupted the conversation. Somehow in the middle of the chaos, it had managed to remain unmoved on the nightstand. Sam slowly approached and answered. "Hello." A moment’s pause. "Seriously? Oh. Okay. Sorry. Yes. Okay. Bye."

"What was that?" Josh asked as the other man placed the phone back on the received.

"That was the front desk. The people across the hall are asking us to keep it down."

The trio erupted into hilarious laughter as they surveyed the wreckage in their midst. The room was beyond destroyed, with every piece of furniture sustaining some damage and several holes in the wall and carpet. The only things separated the room from a wild rockers bash was the blood and two dead demons.

"Did I miss something?" a weak voice asked from the bathroom doorway. "Because Shotak and Mentulion demons aren’t very funny."

*~*~*

"Have you ever met Cornelius Grumskin? If you think Owen is a ponce, you should never meet him." Hunter was finishing massaging the shampoo in his hair. "One time when I was a child, he locked me in a closet because I failed to agree with the idea that a Mentulion demon was more primitive than a Shotak."

Before another word could be spoke, the bathroom door burst open. "Rupert?" Hunter cried.

"He’s not the Seer," one man spoke to the other.

Hunter stood blankly until the two men turned and walked out.

*~*~*

Spike and Kelly were vamped out and wreaking havoc on the agents filling the room. They fully understood the situation: Buffy was right. Time had run out and Wolfram and Hart was here to collect Cordelia. And in this moment both vampires were ready for a fight and ready to die to protect the pregnant Seer.

"The back door!" Kelly shouted to Spike.

"Gunn and the Brit are back there!" Spike snarled as he sent one masked man flying to the ground. It was obvious they were attempting to apply some sedation to the vampires and the elder was determined to prevent it from happening.

Kelly was surrounded by three armed agents. All were carrying poison tipped knives that she was struggling to overcome. Just as one was about to strike and knife flew in from above to hit one man squarely in the chest. Kelly was able to briefly gaze to the stairs to see Giles standing armed with another dagger. "Thanks!" She cried as she made quick work of the other two.

"Where are the bits?" Spike called to the former watcher.

"Their safe," Giles put simply. He had made sure that Melody and the children had been placed in the secret room housing Cordelia.

Spike round-housed a kick to take out another agent before working his way toward the well dressed woman standing in the middle of the chaos. "Hate to break it to you lady, but we’re not lookin’ to change our long distance today."

"Cute. Obviously Spike." She flipped open her phone nonchalantly.

Before Spike could approach another wave of agent came in from the back with an immersed Wesley, Gunn and Fred. "Hey," Gunn called as he fought two at once. "Hope you guys don’t mind a little help."

"Anytime!" Kelly replied.

In the next moment a clatter arose at the front as Rosalie burst inside. "I knew it!" She cried as she reached down to pull the dagger from around her ankle. "You guys totally suck!" With that, she ran into the middle of the crowded mess.

"Rosalie!" Spike called above the madness. "Where’s Bu—"

A wave of energy rocketed through the building knocking everyone off their equilibrium.

"What the fuck was that?" Gunn stammered.

"Whatever it is," Wesley said lowly, "Isn’t good."

Rosalie took the moment of distraction to land a kick in one of the agent’s gut. The kick blew her mind as it sent the man flying across the room and into Kelly. "What the fuck?" Rosalie stammered as the two other agents who were making their way toward the girl decided to turn and run.

"Hey guys!" Fred’s meek voice called above the crowd. "I just called Lorne! He said he was bringing reinforcements from Caritas." She made her way toward the door before turning back toward her fiancé. "He should be here any second."

The next moment stopped the room instantaneously. Zack walked right through the front doors of the Hyperion. Fred, oblivious to any danger behind her, was snatched up by the throat before Wesley could shout a warning. "Hey guys!" Zack called cheerfully. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by." He kept a tight grip on Fred as he turned to Lilah. "Any luck?"

"Our men have scanned the perimeter and haven’t located her." She shrugged. "The partners and I aren’t the least bit concerned."

Zack nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He took a long pause on Kelly’s face, relishing the look of fear and sadness in her blue eyes. "So honey," he drawled. "Where are the kids?"

"Fuck you," she spat as she took a instinctive step toward Spike.

Zack smirked. "Don’t think Daddy can always protect you," he warned as he gave a look toward his sire. "Fred here should attest to that."

"Let her go," Wesley growled as he began to mach forward.

"One step you piece of shit," Zack growled, eyes flashing yellow. "And I will snap her like a toothpick." The former watcher halted his pursuit.

Zack went back to his leisurely gaze about the room, taking a moment to look at every one of his former friends. "Who the fuck are you?" Zack questioned when he looked to the stairs to find Hunter standing at the top.

"Trust me," the watcher said lowly. "We’ve met."

A big grin spread across Zack’s face. "I remember you! You were the little punk that came up right when my little niece and I had our get together." He looked to Rosalie. "Still sore or are you ready for another go around."

"That’s enough," Spike growled as he took a step forward.

"Wonder if Fred here would enjoy it a little more."

"Please, oh please!" Fred cried as she wiggled to get away.

Zack leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Fred refused and struggled again to gain freedom from her captor. Zack then raised his voice. "I bet you wouldn’t cry as much as Rosie did. Bet Wes has popped your cherry by now." He ran a hand slowly up her thigh while the other remained tightly around her neck.

"Let her go!" Wesley bellowed as he took a step forward and raised his crossbow.

"I dare you," Zack said, eyes twinkling. "Just try it."

"Men," Lilah interrupted. "Clear out." The agents slowly began to disperse. The lawyer gave a last look at the soulless vampire before making her departure out the back entrance.

Wesley thought that between the brief glance Zack shared with the lawyer and the commotion surrounding the departure of the Wolfram and Hart agents, he would have enough opportunity to injure Zack and rescue his fiancé.

He was wrong.

Zack roared the moment the arrow grazed his arm. Instead of releasing his grip on the petrified Fred, Zack snapped her neck in one swift motion and threw her lifeless body to the ground.

Wesley was numb. All emotion was directed toward the woman he loved, who was now lying dead on the floor. As the former watcher crumbled and held his lifeless love, Zack rubbed his scraped shoulder and shrugged. "I told him what was gonna happen, now didn’t I?"

"You’re gonna regret that, mate," Spike said lowly as he stalked toward the vampire. He knew that composure was the only guarantee to success at this stage.

"I’ll bet money that you’ll say that to me a time or two before its all over." He looked back at Fred once more before glancing up into his wife’s eyes. "Tell Rosie she’s next. I want William to watch before I snap his." And with that he was gone before the others could react.

Before they could do anything other than mourn the loss of another friend and colleague.

As the Hyperion stood silent, Wesley’s sobs were the only sounds the room dare make. Kelly and Gunn slowly approached and kneeled next to Wesley.

Until "Baby Got Back" blasted from Spike’s pants pocket.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," Rosalie said with red, swollen eyes.

"Yeah," Spike said sheepishly reaching for his cell. It took a moment to realize that only one number was programmed for that number. The number of the last person who would be calling him now. "Zangy," he quietly hissed into the receiver.

"Silly me," Zack chuckled. "I almost forgot. Did you have a message for the missus?"

"Zack," he said, trying desperately to cover the fear that slammed into his heart.

"I mean is there something you’d like me to tell her? That’ll you be there to save her soon? Or that everything will be okay?"

"Where’s Buffy?" Spike screamed.

All Zack did was laugh richly and hang up the phone.

The platinum vampire whirled around to look at Rosalie. "Where’s Buffy? She was with you!"

The young girl looked around the room in confusion. "I thought she was here. I came back alone because I thought you guys called her and told her to come back home."

"Oh fuck!" Spike cried running out the door. Kelly was off the ground the next second and running after him.


	28. Chapter 28

Rosalie was sitting alone in the kitchen when she heard the footsteps behind her. She was amazed at how her ears picked up the patter of the feet. She never remembered that before.

"Do you mind?"

Rosalie didn’t bother to turn around. She knew who it was. "Not since you bathed."

"Yes, well," Hunter stuttered. "I believe we are all in agreement there." With that he walked over to the table at which she was sitting, staring blankly at her filled glass of milk. "I’m so sorry for your loss."

Rosalie looked up at him. She honestly didn’t know which loss he spoke for: Nikki, Fred, her uncle, her dignity. "Thanks," she said, blushing and looking back at the milk.

Hunter pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. "So, you’re quite the fighter."

"Tonight was weird," she admitted as fidgeted in her seat. "I guess those guys were lightweights or something because I popped that one like a balloon."

"Your bruises are gone," he said softly as he gently reached over to examine her arm.

She looked down at her skin. "Hmmm…that’s fucking weird."

"Do you…feel…different?"

Rosalie cast the man a doubtful look and shifted her chair away a few inches. "What the hell are you getting at?"

"Blimey," Hunter said with an eye roll. "Not like that." He sighed. "Your hearing, your perception…your awareness of your surrounding. Do you feel different?"

She gasped. "How do you know?" she asked shakily.

"Because that’s what I was sent here to help you through."

"You said you were here for Faith."

"I came here for you."

"W-why me?"

"Because I’m your watcher."

"But that would mean—"

"Rosalie, you’re my slayer."

*~*~*

It was the worst sort of déjà vu she’d ever experienced. Before her memories were stolen, Buffy often would awake in a panic, blindly searching a dark room only to realize she was safe. She was in bed, Spike was beside her, and she was safe. He would stir inevitably and hold her until the images faded, but no matter what they tried, she couldn’t fully escape Wolfram and Hart. Even in the aftermath of their forged past, she would occasionally awaken with sore arms and images too violent to account to her vocation. She would awaken in chains. 

This, however, was too real to be a nightmare. Buffy blinked blearily. The scene awaiting her was horror come to life. Her arms were again strung above her head, clasped by cuffs and metal links, her legs spread and shackled. She knew immediately what had happened even if her brain struggled to connect the dots. Zack. She’d confronted Zack, and instead of facing her like a man, he’d shot her in the neck and tied her up. 

And he’d done it to hurt Spike. 

Buffy released a deep breath, forcing her most innate emotions back. This wasn’t about her. She was goosed up with nowhere to go, but it was Spike Zack wanted to hurt. And he knew where to strike. She couldn’t panic. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t beg. 

She could only wait. Spike had gotten to her once before, and she knew he would again. 

She just hoped he remained within himself—if he didn’t, the world would suffer. 

And Zack. God Zack. 

Whatever hope they had of getting Zack back now was gone. Completely. Spike’s hesitance would vanish. The second he saw Zack, he’d rip him apart. Even if Zack didn’t touch her. 

And if Zack did… 

Buffy shuddered. Well, if Zack touched her, she could only hope he was the only person Spike would rip apart. Spike would make this city bleed. 

*~*~*

The room was spinning. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t remember he didn’t need to breathe. Everywhere he turned, he saw her face. A ghost in the shadows, taunting him. _She was gone._ She was gone. The strongest woman he’d ever known, and she was gone. Somehow Zack had snagged her. Zack had snagged her and he was doing god-knows what to her gorgeous body. Touching her. Exploring her. Raping her.

Spike roared, jerking an axe from the ground and whipping it across the room. The teeth shattered into the Hyperion wall, splinters and dust flying. No one bothered to question him—a series of concerned glances were exchanged but nothing more. As though they knew how dangerous he was for the first time. As though they realized then that he had no soul, no chip, no Buffy to keep him grounded.

Zack had Buffy. He had her. A horrible sickness seized Spike’s stomach. His eyes landed on the axe and without warning, he coughed up blood. Today’s lunch splattered across the floor without preliminaries. And the room still wouldn’t stop spinning.

"Spike?"

He snarled and batted an arm at Kelly. Looking at her would only make it worse. Looking at her would bring Zack into the room.

"Spike, we’ll get her back."

A harsh laugh erupted through his lips. "Heard that one before. Sing me another tune."

"We’ll go now. You got in once before."

"Yeah," he agreed roughly. "I’ll bet they haven’t changed a sodding thing, too. Same locks. Same key. Same bloody everything. You know what he’s doing to her, Kelly? He’s…" Spike trailed off, meeting her eyes but breaking away just as quickly. The visual of what Zack would do to Buffy had him contemplating tossing up breakfast, too. As it was, digested blood on the floor was unappealing enough, though no one made a move to comment.

"You better hope Wesley gets to him before I do," Spike said softly. "It’s over. You understand? I reach Zangy firs’ an’ I’ll make sure I keep him conscious until the very end. There won’t be much of him left to dust by the time I shove a stake through his heart, but I’ll want him to see everything. Feel everything. Everything he did to her. To Nikki. To Rosalie. To Faith. To Fred. An’ to me. I’ll make sure he feels it, Kelly. An’ if he passes out, I’ll wait till he wakes up an’ do it again. It’s over."

Kelly flinched but didn’t object. There was nothing but wise understanding in her eyes. "I know," she said, her gaze falling to the place on the floor where Fred had collapsed. Wesley had moved her upstairs and no one had been brave enough yet to go after him. To see how he was doing. There was only one absolute: the murder in Wesley’s eyes couldn’t be mistaken. He wanted very much to meet Zack again. He wanted to rip him apart skin cell by skin cell.

Gunn, who had been standing motionless by the place where Fred had fallen for the past ten minutes, started at that. "We got in last time," he said, sniffing hard and wiping his eyes. "You and Wright got in and took those bastards down."

"Yeah," Spike agreed. "An’ as I said, they’ll have changed it."

"Nothing’s impossible," Gunn retorted. "I want the bastard dead. Now. Yesterday. He killed Fred. And he took your girl. And Nikki?" He broke off, shaking his head. "And what he did to Rosalie. And Faith, don’t know her too well, but…we waited too fucking long. And if you got in once we’ll fucking do it again."

"And then we put Zack down," Giles offered softly, his face heartbroken. Kelly nearly fell apart simply for the look in his eyes. Zack was much like his son, but Buffy was very much his daughter. And if Zack hurt her, there would be hell to pay.

"Bloody right we do," Spike agreed softly, his entire body trembling with rage.

The next time he saw Zack would be the last.

And he was okay with that.

*~*~*

Willow hadn’t the foggiest idea what had happened, though given the exhausted state of her muscles and her lack of clothing, she had a hunch. Memories of what had occurred after she drained the books were hazy, though she was certain the nightmarish visage of Donna blasting halfway to hell was a memory and not something her subconscious had conjured for the hell of it. Her ears rang and her head pounded. And there were dead demons in the room.

"You’re wearing a towel," Josh blurted.

"I noticed that. My clothes were kinda of the missing." Willow reddened and clutched the terrycloth to her breast. "I’m guessing my evil plan worked?"

"You were so brave," Sam agreed, nearly tripping over himself to shield her near-naked body from the onlookers. "Willow, you were so brave."

"And evil," Josh quipped readily, stumbling over the dead Shotak demon on the way.

Willow whimpered, her head falling into her free hand. "I was really hoping that was just a bad nightmare." 

"It wasn’t. You nearly blew us away." 

Sam scowled at Josh. "I thought we discussed how you were going to leave her alone." 

"Well, considering the fact that she tossed my girlfriend around like a hackey-sack—" 

"Josh!" 

"She could’ve killed us, Sam! There’s no getting around that. I don’t care how brave she was." Josh gestured demonstratively to the bodies crowding the floor. "And we’re being attacked by demons left and right because—" 

"That’s not her fault," Sam barked. 

"It’s okay," Willow offered meekly, placing a hand on the irate Congressman’s shoulder. "Really, it’s okay." Her eyes fluttered shut. "Josh is right." 

There was a long, strangled beat. 

"What?" Sam demanded. 

Josh blinked. "Huh?" 

Donna merely pursed her lips, as though she’d expected it. 

"He’s right," Willow continued. "I could have destroyed you. All of you. I had no control…I had…" She broke off, shaking her head. "It was a part of me I’d hoped didn’t really exist. But it does, and I’m too dangerous to be around. After this is over, we better just…we better go our separate ways." 

Sam’s eyes widened with protest. "Willow!" 

"It’s the smart thing—" 

"No, it’s dumb. It’s beyond dumb. It’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, and I’m in Congress." 

"Sam—" 

"Don’t let Josh—" 

"I’m not letting Josh do anything," Willow spat. "Believe me, I’ve known him long enough that I’ve made a study of ignoring him when he’s wrong. But he’s not wrong, Sam. And we don’t have time to argue this now." She waved at the dead demons. "If these guys are indicators, we need to get moving. The wall is down, right? I didn’t dream that part." 

Josh nodded somberly, placated now that Willow was on his side. "We went as far as we could with Heckle and Jeckle and their redneck friends on our asses." 

Willow nodded. "We better keep moving." 

Sam made to grab her. "Willow—"

"This isn’t up for discussion," she said sharply, her eyes sad but determined. "Josh, Sam…you guys go get the car ready. And Donna?" 

"The weapons and books?" the blonde asked, smiling weakly. 

"That’d be helpful." Willow shivered. "I’ll help as soon as I get dressed." 

Sam’s lips parted. There was no way he was giving up so quickly on her—whether or not this was the time to argue was a moot point. Willow was the woman he loved, and he wouldn’t let her walk away just because she’d tried to make him a human barbeque. "I can stay and—" 

Willow’s eyes flared. "No." 

"But…Willow, I love you." 

Josh and Donna exchanged a pained glance. Willow’s shoulders slumped, her face crumbling. "You can’t make it easy, can you?" she whispered. "Sam…just go. We can’t stop moving." 

"Will—" 

Josh’s hand hooked around Sam’s elbow. "Get dressed," he said. "We’ll bring the car around." 

"Thanks." 

Willow turned away. She couldn’t look at Sam as he was led away. She couldn’t watch. 

Not when her heart was breaking. 

*~*~* 

She felt him near. Felt him watching her. Felt him looming over her with anticipation that made her stomach curl. It had only been a matter of time, she knew. Zack had the perfect weapon at his disposal. There was little sense dragging out the inevitable. He wanted to hurt her—he wanted to hurt Spike—and there was no time like the present. 

"I gotta say," he drawled eagerly, wrapping a hand around his erect cock. Oh yeah. He wanted to hurt her. And he knew how. He knew what would happen. "You do make chains look good." 

Buffy’s eyes fought open and she immediately wished they hadn’t. "Wow," she said, forcing her eyes to rake down his body. "I suddenly feel sorry for Kelly." 

"You’re not exactly in a place to be pissing me off." 

"What? You mean you won’t do whatever it is you’re planning to do with that thing if I pretend you’re God’s gift to abducted slayers?" She bristled, rolling her eyes. "This ain’t my first rodeo, boy." 

"Brave words." 

She shrugged as best as her chains would allow. The last time she’d been in Wolfram and Hart’s dungeon, she’d allowed her emotions rule her words. Rule her reactions. Her lack of a pulse, in that regard, came a as a godsend. Zack wouldn’t take her as easily as he thought. He might have goosed her up, but he hadn’t robbed her of her fight. There was no way she’d ever betray how her heart would pound if it worked. How her blood curled with disgust. How her skin near shivered off her bones merely thinking of what he would do to her. How it would hurt. How she wouldn’t be the same woman when she again saw daylight. 

How it would change her relationship with Spike. 

"You’re not going to get what you want," she said softly. 

"Your cunt?" Zack countered, eyes dropping to her vagina. He licked his lips hungrily. "Oh, I think I will." 

"You won’t get me to scream, Zack. You won’t get me to cry. You won’t get me to beg. The only thing you’ll get is a granted death wish. You’ll beg me to kill you before he does." 

Zack blinked at her and yawned. "This supposed to scare me?" 

"No," Buffy replied honestly, her voice soft. "It’s just the way it is." 

"I know you think he’ll rescue you. I know…’cause he did once, right? Big Bad Spike riding in on his white steed to save the day. He wasn’t in time before, but Spike, in your deluded mind, learns from his mistakes." 

Buffy laughed at that. "You never once paid attention, did you?" 

"He’s not here now. He’s not here to stop me from finding out what makes your cunt so fucking special. So, honey, unless he comes crashing in through the wall in the next three seconds—" 

"You’re not touching me." 

"Aren’t I?"

"Not now. Next time maybe, if you’re lucky…but if you come near me now, you’re gonna bleed." 

Zack blinked again before his lips drew upward in the most ridiculously self-gratified smirk she’d ever seen, and Buffy had seen her fair share. She was, after all, mated and married to Spike. 

"You think so?" 

"I know so." 

There was no waver in her voice. No threat. No plea. There was nothing but calm knowledge. She was informing, not warning. And the words had their effect. Zack’s eyes darkened with anger, the fact that he wasn’t striking fear into her snow-white heart at last egging at his nerves. "We’ll see how long you keep singing that tune, sweet pea," he snarled, pumping his cock harder. A flash—then he was pressed against her, erection probing her vaginal folds, hot, eager, ready to push inside…

Buffy roared and sank her fangs into his throat and sucking in a mouthful of raw tissue and ripping it away. Zack howled and jerked away, which only worsened the wound as her jaw didn’t unlock. He stared at her blankly when there was a good distance between them again. His hand at his destroyed neck, chest heaving useless breaths, eyes glued to the stringy, meaty chunks of skin and muscle dangling from her bloodied mouth.

Buffy winced and spat his flesh to the ground. "Can’t say," she said, "I didn’t warn you."

"FUCKING BITCH!"

"You really didn’t leave me much option."

"You think it’s over?" Zack demanded. "You think that’s all you’re gonna get?"

"If so, I’m sorely disappointed." Buffy made a face, her eyes landing on the mess she’d made. "You taste like shit."

"YOU CUNT!" He attempted to back-hand her, but Buffy caught his wrist between her fangs again, and again made a nasty, bloody mess on the floor, twisting this time until a crack split the air and Zack’s arm fell uselessly to his side.

"Just stop trying," Buffy replied. "Go patch yourself up."

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"

"Umm, let’s think…yes?"

Holding his wounded arm to his side, Zack pointed with the other, eyes blazing. "You’re dead," he told her. "Fucking dead."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

Her lack of fear only angered him, but he didn’t move again. Not toward her.

Instead, he made a move for the door.

He would be back. She knew he would be back.

But at the very least, she’d bought herself some time.

*~*~* 

Her throat was dry. She wanted water. And no sooner had she rasped the request did she find her lips pried apart by an eager straw, a hazy form lurking above her with attentive care. She wasn’t used to bedside service, but hey, not complaining. Rarely was she hand-given anything, especially something she needed immediately.

But then, Faith hadn’t been hospitalized but once before.

Steadily, her eyes blinked open. Someone was above her, holding a glass, eyes heavy with concern and regret. The blood loss must have gotten to her, because from this angle it looked like Zack Wright. And that couldn’t be. Couldn’t. Zack Wright hated her. Hell, had she not a crystal clear memory of what had happened, she wouldn’t have put it past him to be the one who made her current condition a possibility. Of all the mere mortals she knew, Zack Wright sure as hell had enough muscle to take a slayer out.

But her memory was perfect. Not hazy. Not murky. The details didn’t blur and fade. She knew where she was and why she was here.

Zack. That fucking bastard. He’d gotten the best of her. Caught her off guard. The last thing she remembered was the smell of the alley as the sun crept closer to the horizon. He’d killed the girl—butchered the girl—and then he’d done the same to her. Only not the same, because Faith was waking up.

The girl never would. 

Faith blinked again, focusing on Wright. "Don’t tell me he put me in a coma," she warned groggily.

"Huh?"

"Last time I was wasted like that, I was out of the fight for nearly a year. And unless I got amnesia, you don’t like me very much."

Wright didn’t smile. That wasn’t a good sign.

"I know what you did for Nikki."

Faith quirked her head. "It was her, then?" she asked softly. "Fuck. I thought so, but I was hoping…"

"It’s my fault. I sent her out. I kicked her out. I kicked her out and got her killed."

"Nuh uh. Come on, Wright, we both know it doesn’t work that way." She winced and sat up, waving him off when he attempted to stop her. "All right. Live to fight another day, and all that jazz. Let’s say we blow this joint?"

Wright’s eyes widened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. There’s no way."

"What? All my vitals are workin’ and I’m conscious, unless this is some wacked out dream. Let’s go."

"Faith, you were pronounced dead."

She shrugged. "Well, they called it too fast. I’m here and unless you got some extremely good news, your brother’s still out there making life a fucking creepshow for this town."

"You can’t—"

"I’m a slayer, Wright. I don’t get time-outs. And if I do, I called it in when B threw me off the roof." Faith turned away before he could reply, balling up the empty Styrofoam cup he’d offered and tossing it into the hallway. "Yo, Doc!" she yelled. "Where are my papers? I want out."

Wright groaned and leaned back. "Faith…"

A young black nurse came entered the room with an arched brow, flexing her hand around the cup. "You summoned me?"

"I want out," Faith reiterated. "Get the doc."

The nurse rolled her eyes and glanced to Wright. "She knows she was dead, right?"

"She doesn’t seem to care," Wright replied.

"Look, Nurse—"

"Turtle," the nurse replied. "And you’re in no shape to leave."

"Yeah, well, you ain’t the doc. Get him in here."

"He’s just gonna agree with me."

"Well then get him in here so I can change his mind."

Wright groaned again. "It doesn’t work that way."

"It does today. We don’t have time to wait."

Nurse Turtle tossed Wright a dry look. "She always like this?"

"Always."

"Look, Wright," Faith said. "You head on back to the hotel. I’ll take care of these clowns."

"It’s not safe."

The Slayer arched a brow. "You said I was pronounced, right? If little brother knows that, he won’t come calling. Even so, I got me new blood and a reason to kick his motherfucking ass back to last Tuesday. So go ahead. Your little girl needs you." She paused. "So does Cordy. We’re good."

Wright’s lips parted to protest; Faith held up a hand. "We’re good," she said again. "Really. And I’m right behind you."

"The doctor’s not gonna let you leave," Nurse Turtle reiterated.

Faith shrugged. "We’ll see."

*~*~*

The chains weren’t as strong as she remembered. Though she’d been by no means immobilized when Angelus and his crew played their merry rounds of torture, bits of ceiling hadn’t fallen to the ground every time she jerked on her restraints. Of course, she hadn’t been a vampire before, either. Vampire-strength combined with what nature had given her made her damn near impervious. It was difficult to remember there had been a life before she became a vampire—and thankfully, Wolfram and Hart had the same problem.

"Come on," Buffy whispered, her eyes on the ceiling. More dust. Large chunks of plywood and plaster decorated the ground. "Come on."

"Having fun?"

Her head whipped up. Zack was standing in the doorway, his black eyes humorless, an angry red circle on his throat where she’d attacked him. His penis hung limply from his open slacks. Not erect, yet. Not until he knew he could get in.

"Ah," Buffy said, swallowing hard. Again grateful her heart didn’t beat, else it would have thundered. "Back so soon?"

"We have unfinished business, you and me."

"Yeah. I was wondering what the other side of your neck tasted like."

"You’re not gonna try that again," Zack drawled, his eyes narrowing. "You know I’m expecting it."

She feigned a dramatic sigh. "Darn. Well, golly, all out of plans."

"It’s not like you to be coy, Buffy."

She blinked at him. "Wow. Do you ever not know me well."

"Though I gotta say…" His eyes raked down her body as though she hadn’t been visually raped enough. "…I can see why Spike has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. You are stunning."

Buffy did her best to hide her disgust, though from the look on his face she wasn’t too successful. "Trust me," she replied. "It’s the lighting."

"Well, I don’t want to make this unpleasant for you…" He took a step forward, fisting his cock and beginning to pump. Had to make himself nice and hard. "Oh wait…yes, I really do. So how about this…I’ll stick this in you, and you fight as hard as you can."

A shrug. "Well, if you insist."

Her fingers wrapped around the dusty, iron chain and jerked hard, and with a tumultuous crash, the sky came crashing down. Buffy gasped, swinging awkwardly, suspended by her chained-arm as the other swung violently at her assailant. The links smashed into his cheekbone before double-backing to sweep his legs from under him. It provided just enough time to jerk her other arm free. Without warning, she came crashing to the floor.

"Oh, you fucking bitch," Zack growled, limping to his feet. "You’re really gonna regret that."

"Somehow, not thinking so." She bounded upward and lashed with the chains again. "You—"

There was no time. No warning. Not a thing. The walls crashed open with Wolfram and Hart specialists, and before she could blink, a needle shot into her neck, sending her to the ground. Her bones melted and her insides liquidated into nothing. The room blurred and spun. There was nothing.

"Next time," Zack promised from the distance. "Be ready, baby."

All went black.

*~*~*

She could have been sleeping.

For the first few weeks after their relationship turned physical, he’d find himself staring at her. Her quiet elegance. Her simple grace. The sweet way she inhaled and sighed. The way her brow would furrow before she turned. The small little whimpers she made when trapped in a brutal nightmare. She was perfection. She was beauty. And she was his.

She was dead.

Wesley couldn’t turn away. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to look. He’d been Fred’s since the moment they met. Since her wide, frightened eyes clashed with his. She’d been beautiful even then—lost in the hills of Pylea, so far from home. So far from herself.

She was lying on their bed, but she wasn’t breathing. She wasn’t sighing. Her brow wasn’t furrowing and she wasn’t trying to escape some imaginary monster in an imaginary world. No, a real-world monster had caught up with her, and she was gone.

Her neck bent awkwardly against the pillow. She was gone.

And Zack…Zack was to blame. He’d captured her. Caressed her throat. Mocked him. Mocked her.

Then Wesley had taken that fatal step, made that move, knowing…

No. Not his fault. It couldn’t be his fault. Zack would have killed her one way or another. His words had been chosen to torment. He’d known Wesley would go after her.

He’d known what would happen.

But she hadn’t. She’d kept looking at him. Knowing he would save her. Knowing he would think of something—do something—knowing she had nothing to fear.

She lay motionless on their bed.

Gone. Taken. Taken before his eyes.

And if it was the last thing he did, he would make sure Zack felt pain like this. If he had to pull him apart hair by hair, Wesley would make sure he screamed.

*~*~*

Buffy had no concept of time.

She remembered this from before. Days would turn into weeks, and weeks into millennia. Logically, she knew not much more than a few hours could have passed since she broke free of her restraints, but it could have been days. Hell, it could have been years. She didn’t know. All she knew was the same nightmare awaited her the second her eyes fought open.

Zack was standing there. Ready. A self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Nice nap, darling?"

Her body wasn’t sore. Well, not in the telling way. The way she’d tried so hard to forget. He hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t violated her when she drifted away. Buffy inhaled sharply but didn’t question it. There was no need. She knew why.

It wouldn’t be any fun if she slept through her humiliation.

Buffy didn’t reply. She just looked at him.

It was coming. She would fight again, and maybe she’d win, but it was coming.

"Reinforced your chains," Zack noted, glancing upward. "No more fancy escape moves."

She just looked at him, still saying nothing.

He stepped forward. "No more anything. It’s over, Buffy. I want it. And you’re going to give it to me."

Two men clad in black appeared at Zack’s sides, but didn’t remain there. In a flash, they were before her and hot acid splashed across her face. Acid in the form of holy water. Buffy bit back a scream, but she couldn’t hide the way her face contorted in pain or the whimpers that scratched at her throat. The second her lips fell open, something small and metallic was pushed between them.

A rosary.

Skin sizzled and smoked. The stench of burnt flesh flayed her nostrils. Her body jerked and tugged and fought the restraints, but Zack was right—they were reinforced. Different. Stronger.

Then he was in front of her. Pressed against her. Cock probing her vaginal lips, fangs skimming her throat.

"Fight all you want," he rasped. "Please."

Then he slammed into her, and her body split apart in agony.

But she didn’t scream.

*~*~*

The demon screamed.

The demon roared.

Pounding. Throbbing. The room twirled around him. Eyes blinked and lights flickered, and she was being hurt. He was tearing into her body, ripping into her, brutalizing her for the crime of being Spike’s mate, and he was doing it _right now_.

Rational thought flew away. Faces around him blurred into a sea of unremarkable strangers. People in his way. People standing between him and Buffy. Buffy, who was hurting. Buffy, whose body was being broken. Buffy, whose life—whose very existence—was more precious to him than the whole of the world.

The demon screamed its raged and clawed his insides. Everything else shut down. Everything but the primal need to protect her. To put himself between Buffy and the thing hurting her. Everything but the need to rip Zack Morris apart, bone by bone.

Spike raced for the Hyperion door, long legs laden with lead. He couldn’t run fast enough.

A blur materialized in front of him. A solid blur. Kelly.

"Where are you going?"

There was no time for this. Spike snarled and shoved her aside.

"Spike!"

"‘m going to get her."

"No, you’re not."

Another blur stepped forward. Gunn. He looked confused. "What the fuck is going on?"

"He’s raping her!" Spike yelled. They all looked at him blankly. Why didn’t they understand? He needed to get to her now. "He’s tearing into her. He’s _hurting_ her. An’ I can feel it. I can feel everything he’s doing to her. He’s breaking her an’ I can fucking feel it." He growled and started forward again. "‘m gonna rip him limb from bloody limb."

Kelly looked taken aback for a second but quickly snapped back to herself. "You’re not going to be able to help her like this, Spike."

"So fucking be it. I’ll die tryin’ to get her out."

"And how will that help? Zack would have won if he knows this is what he’s doing to you."

"I can’t do bloody nothing!"

"You’ll get yourself killed!"

_"I have to get to her!"_

"If you die, Buffy dies, too!"

More blurs solidified. Giles. Cordelia. Lorne. Rosalie. The new guy. All witness to his destruction.

And he couldn’t make them understand.

"I can’t just sit here as he hurts her!" Spike roared, shoving Kelly aside. "I have to go. I have to—"

A roar split the air, and before he knew what was happening, the vampire behind him seized his arm and had him airborne. He smashed into the weapons’ cabinet, shattered glass encircling his body and breaking into his skin as he tumbled to the floor. When he glanced up, Kelly was in full fang mode, storming forward. He bounded to his feet in a blink, aiming a quick backhand at her face, which she caught and used to leverage a brutal kick to his gut. He lashed again, rage weakening his senses and dulling his reactions. His punches were rash and clumsy, and Kelly answered with precision of which he didn’t know her capable.

Her movements were controlled. Every kick aimed where he was his weakest. She transformed in those seconds. She became something else.

She moved like a slayer.

She moved like Buffy.

The revelation followed him as she kicked him through the doors and into the courtyard, assuming a defensive stance before he could collect himself.

He’d never known Kelly could fight like that. He’d never known Kelly could fight _at all._

"You can’t go," she said, panting. "Buffy will never forgive you if you die. She’s strong, Spike. No matter what he does to her…"

He choked a sob at that. Reality came crashing down.

"We’ll get her back," Kelly continued. "I swear. I’ll kill him myself if I have to, but I will break every fucking bone in your body to get you to see reason if I must. If it’ll keep you here. We can’t go when we have nothing. It’ll get you killed, and then we’ll never see her again."

Tortured, Spike blinked and glanced up, demon falling to despair. "He’s raping her, Kelly," he whispered. "He’s brutalizing her. He’s….he’s…I can feel it. I feel everything. Every time she…every hurt. Every rip of her skin. He’s tearing her apart, an’ he’s doing it because of me."

Kelly swallowed hard. "And he’ll suffer for it. I promise you."

He couldn’t reply. Couldn’t. Not when his world was breaking.

All he could do was sob.

*~*~*

It was over.

Buffy hung, limp, defeated. Every inch of her body screamed. Her eyes were sealed shut from holy water, the inside of her mouth blistered and swollen. Blood ran down her inner legs. Her vagina felt like it had been ripped into shreds. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel anything again.

And Zack was dressing. Smirking. Whistling jauntily to himself.

Satisfied.

"I’m sorry."

He paused and turned around. "Sorry?" he repeated. "Sorry you fought so hard? It could’ve been so much easier, Buffy. All you had to do was—"

"I’m not talking to you," she said. "I’m talking to Zack. The real Zack. The Zack that will wake up in that body. It will happen. You know it will…someday. He’ll wake up in that body, and he’ll have to remember this. He’ll know this is why Spike kills him." She aimed her blind face in his direction. "I’m sorry, Zack. He will kill you, but you’ll welcome it…you’ll want him to kill you for this. For everything. And I’m sorry. Sorry I couldn’t stop it."

Though she couldn’t see him, she knew her words had rattled him. She knew.

She knew because he didn’t say anything. Just finished dressing and left.

Left her alone. Truly alone.

At last, she could cry.


	29. Chapter 29

The Hyperion stood in stunned silence as Kelly cradled a sobbing Spike in the courtyard. As reality grew more intense and despair increased with every waking moment, no one knew what was yet to come. As all eyes looked onto the two vampires shedding tears under the moonlight, no one noticed the man who quietly enter the room.

"What the _fuck_ happened here?"

Everyone gasped and Cordelia let out a shriek before turning around to see a perplexed Zack Wright standing before her. "Oh God," she cried as relief and emotion overcame her. "Oh, Zack!" She grabbed him into her arms.

"Seriously," he said as he embraced her tightly, making eye contact with his daughter before looking to Gunn. "What the fuck happened here?"

Sniffles and puffy eyes were the only answers. As bodies shifted, the demon hunter caught view of the kneeling Kelly and Spike in the courtyard. "Seriously. Now."

"Fred," Gunn choked.

"Buffy," Giles rasped.

"Zack," Rosalie hissed.

Wright when numb. "F-Fred?"

"Zack…" Gunn croaked. "W-Wes took her upstairs."

Wright began to shake. "Buffy was at the hospital."

"Zack kidnapped her." Cordy clutched him tighter.

"They were here. Wolfram and Hart," Giles explained.

 _"Fuck!"_ Zack’s mind was numb. He just lost one of his closest friends. Hours earlier he lost one of his family. And now he had to deal with the fact that his best friend’s wife was in the throes of danger. "We have to go."

"Go?" Giles asked.

"Yes!" Wright growled. "We have to go to Wolfram and Hart and shove a stake down his mother fucking throat so far it turns him into goddamn fertilizer."

"There is no possible way we could infiltrate Wolfram and Hart in this emotional state," Hunter observed. "Not without a plan."

"Who the fuck let you out the cage?" Wright snapped.

Hunter glared. "Just those who posses common sense."

"Stop it," Rosalie warned both men. "Or else I’ll open a can on both your asses."

Wright glowered as Hunter smirked. As Spike and Kelly slowly approached the congregation, the deafening silence returned.

No one had ever seen such raw emotion and fear in Spike before, but no one dared judge because they too were feeling the dread the platinum vampire expressed. "So," Kelly said slowly as the silence turned uncomfortable. She looked around at all the faces. "We need to start thinking of a plan."

"Busting down the fucking front of Wolfram and Hart sounds pretty good to me now," Wright shouted.

"Seriously, man," Gunn cried. "Zack, we can’t—"

"Says. Fucking. Who?" Wright growled as he released Cordelia completely and looked at the others.

"Look," Kelly began, calm but with a distinct irritation in her voice. "Too much has happened too quickly. We need to sit down and figure out a strategy."

"Sorry honey, but there’s no more time to save souls. We need to first get Buffy back and second rid our universe of the most lethal of our problems." With that he turned to look for weapons.

"Zack," Kelly growled. Since she had only just succeeded in calming her grandsire, the last thing the brunette vampire desired was to have another round of holding people back from the door. "Let’s sit down and formulate a plan."

Hunter hesitantly brought his voice to the forefront. "Do we know anyone who might possibly have a connection to the inner levels of Wolfram and Hart?"

"Look, honey," Wright said looking Kelly dead in the eyes. "I know you want to wait until the magic arrives, but there isn’t time. So, who’s coming with me?"

"Nobody is going anywhere," Kelly said loud and clear.

"Just try and stop me."

Spike sighed. "Trust me mate, this chit is all business."

Wright was taken aback by the fact that Spike had spoken. And against what he had presumed was his wishes. "Wha?"

"When she’s brassed, Kel can really fuck you up."

"Bullshit." Wright was confused as he saw looks of confirmation on everybody’s face. "Kelly?" His voice raised several octaves. "Seriously?"

"You think Wolfram and Hart could do this to me?" Spike said with a broad gesture to his bruised and bleeding body.

The demon hunter looked at the mousy vampire. "Huh?"

"I was trained by the fucking best slayer ever to live," Kelly asserted coldly, "and if you think that I would for one minute risk her life for the shell of a man I once called my husband then I’m ashamed I ever met you."

The room was speechless. Wright looked as though he had just been slapped. Then in the smallest voice anyone had heard his use, he said, "Then let’s make a plan."

*~*~*

The car ride was tense. Thoughts and emotions were running rampant through the minds of each passenger and no one knew how to comfort the other. Josh was once again at the wheel with Sam sitting shotgun. Silence occupied the backseat where the girls gazed out the windows at the slow sunrise over the California countryside.

A loud and sudden growl arose from Josh’s stomach, vocalizing the hunger pangs everyone was currently feeling. Since their last meal had consisted of convenience store highlights, nobody had the strength to continue much further. "Maybe we should stop and find some breakfast," Donna quietly suggested.

Everyone nodded their agreement and Josh turned off at the next exit. Unfortunately, this seemed a careless move. After ten minutes driving down the deserted road, all signs pointed to nowhere. "Maybe we should turn around," Sam said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Josh agreed uneasily.

Just as the car was about to turn around down a dirt road, Willow saw the sign. She saw the sign in the last place she had ever expected. "Keep driving."

Josh blinked. "Huh?"

"Keep driving this way!" Her giddy excitement confused her friends, but Josh knew enough not to heed the witch’s command.

They drove for nearly thirty minutes before she saw the next sign. It was on an old oak tree growing along the roadside. Willow’s excitement and optimism continued to escalate as she felt a sense of hope she hadn’t felt in hours. Hours which felt like days.

"Willow?" Sam asked. "Uh…where are we going?"

"I have no idea," she answered honestly.

Josh released a nervous cough. "What do you mean…you have no idea?"

Willow gave a quizzical Donna a shy smile. "I mean I’m not sure where we’re headed, but I’ll know it when we I see it."

"Great," Josh grumbled as he gunned the accelerator off into oblivion. "We’re either going to find something magical or obscene."

*~*~*

Faith’s eyes fluttered open to see the same black nurse standing over her. "What the fuck?"

"I’m taking your vitals."

"I mean…what happened?"

Nurse Turtle gave a shy, slightly embarrassed smile. "I couldn’t let you leave. Your friend agreed with me. So when the first sedative didn’t work I gave you two more. Thankfully that knocked you down and Dr. Cox signed off his approval."

"So that’s why I feel like I was hit by a frickin’ freight train."

"You were brought in legally dead and drained of all your blood. The ER was ready to give up if it hadn’t been for your friend."

The slayer was taken aback. "Really?"

"Yeah. Apparently blood from other hospitals has been transited over for you. They want to give you another infusion."

"I need to get out of here."

"Good luck," the nurse said with a manner of sincerity. "You’re the first one with those marks on your neck that has come in here and lived. Every doctor in this place wants to do a case study."

"No way," Faith groaned as she went to sit up. That was when she discovered the straps holding her arms and legs down to the bed.

"Sorry," Turtle said with a wince. "Your friend suggested we do that before he left."

"And this is where I would stop calling him a friend," Faith snarled.

Nurse Turtle continued checking the stats of the slayer’s progress before replacing her chart back to the foot of her bed. She paused and stared absently at the ground, causing Faith to question her. "What? Is there something you aren’t telling me?"

She shook her head. "No. Your stats are beyond impressive. I don’t quite get it. But I was just thinking…"

"Yeah?"

"Your friend reminded me of someone."

"Oh yeah?"

"It’s silly, but I just hadn’t thought about him in a long time. If I didn’t know better I would have thought they were brothers."

A cold chill ran up Faith’s spine. "What was his name?" she asked hollowly.

The nurse smiled. "Zack. Zack Morris. He and Kelly were my best friends but I haven’t spoken to them in nearly a decade now." She gave a nervous chuckle. "Probably time to move on, huh?"

"Or wake up and face reality."

*~*~*

As they pulled into the parking lot, even the witch’s jaw dropped. "This is it? We drove forty-five minutes in the opposite direction for this?" Josh was nearly screaming by the time he finished.

"It has the symbol," Willow said meekly.

"The magic and invisible symbol," Josh pointed out.

"Yes," the witch said defensively. "So that Muggles like you won’t be attracted to it."

"Every horny truck driver in a fifty mile radius is going to be attracted to this."

The large neon sign for The X Spot shone against the sky. "I know this looks bad," Willow admitted.

"It’s a porn store," Sam clarified.

"Well, I’m pretty sure there’s a magic shop in there."

Donna’s voice was full of curiosity. "So…they sell magic sex toys, too?"

Willow’s blush grew deeper. "An actual magic store inside. I need supplies."

"So apparently Sam didn’t do the trick," Josh muttered.

"Josh!" his best friend said horrified from the passenger seat. The curly haired man apologetically smiled and shrugged.

"My powers haven’t returned, yet. I’m weak. And as long as I’m weak, we’re all vulnerable. I’m going to get some herbs that will help me regain some strength and some things that will protect us in the meantime."

"And something to play with when it’s all said and done?"

"Probably so," Donna countered and she opened her door to follow Willow’s lead. "Because I’m doubting you’re gonna have anything better to do."

*~*~*

It was doubtful that anyone who currently resided inside the walls of the Hyperion would ever look at Kelly Morris again without a distant sense of awe. While previous characterization had deduced her as nothing more than an accidental vampire who mothered everyone she met and had the emotional restraint of a teaspoon, even Spike had learned that he had underestimated her.

After literally and verbally thrashing Spike and Wright, Kelly went to check on her children before setting out to make breakfast for everyone whom still possessed enough cognitive ability to remain conscious. The only sounds were those of frying food as Kelly silently set out to make the meal.

"You should get some rest," Cordelia said as she patted Rosalie’s arm.

"So should you," she countered.

"I bet I’ve had more sleep in the past forty-eight hours than anyone else."

"How about both of you head on upstairs," Wright proposed. "I can bring you some food and then you can crash."

"No way," Rosalie protested and her stepmom had a similar look.

"After we eat, we’re just going to start working on our plans and neither one of you are going to be able to help too much."

"Like hell," Rosalie said as she jumped off the sofa. "I’m going to be right in the middle of it."

"That’s the problem right now," Wright growled. 

"Don’t you dare," Rosalie said with the same fire.

"Okay," Giles sighed as he tried to stop another fight from escalating. "We’re all exhausted. Let’s try not to make any decisions until after we eat."

Rosalie stomped off to the other room, where Hunter quietly followed. "Can you believe that?" she cried as soon as they were out of earshot.

"It’s been a long night," Hunter said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If Giles hadn’t stepped in I was going to win the argument."

"You were?"

She gave him a surprised look. "Hello! You just told me I’m the new slayer!"

"Well, yes," Hunter admitted. "But I’m not sure that you should mention that just yet."

"What do you mean? Buffy’s in danger and Faith is out of order. I think this might be just the news everyone needs."

"Not. Yet." Hunter said quiet and firm, causing the blonde to take a moment pause. "Your family has been stretched the emotional brink and beyond. Even I’m mourning the loss of people I never met. To know you have just been marked with the demonic equivalent of a bulls-eye is the last thing they need."

"But I can help."

"I know that and you know that, but there is no need to argue that point, yet. Without training you are still vulnerable. You haven’t mastered how to use your new powers and you haven’t polished any of your offensive or defensive skills."

"I’m going to be more effective than Gunn and you bet your ass he’s going to go."

"Gunn isn’t my responsibility. You are."

*~*~*

"Wait a minute," Lisa said as she threw her hands up in the air once again. "You really don’t think I shouldn’t call the psychiatric ward after you tell me my best friends are vampires and Zack was the one who almost killed you because some evil law firm took his soul because his dad couldn’t kill his mysterious big brother."

Faith had a satisfied look. "That about sums it up."

"Excuse me," she said as she turned toward the door.

"Wait," Faith said as panic set in. A trip to the psych ward would inevitably slow down her vengeance plans. "They…they have two kids. Rosie and some little boy."

Lisa shrugged and continued out of the room. Faith continued. "Zack’s got a thing for blond highlights. Kelly’s brunette and has the maternal instincts of Mother Theresa."

Just as she reached for the door her body froze. "They’ve been in NYC, but they were coming back to LA for…fuck if I know. But I’m betting you do."

Lisa’s eyes shone with tears as she turned to face the Slayer once more. "They were my best friends. I had known them since preschool. I was at the Fashion Institute and received a call from Kelly saying she was expecting. Then, she said that she and Zack were going to be on the east coast so that they could visit an old friend. The day I was going to drive down to D.C. I received an email from Zack saying the trip was canceled and then I never heard from them again."

"Well they’re here and they could use some help. So why don’t you let me the fuck go so I can go save some lives."

*~*~*

"I feel dirty," Donna whispered as they walked inside. It seemed that Willow and Donna were the only females in the establishment and were drawing quite a bit of attention.

"Can I help you?" the guy at the desk asked with a smirk.

"I’m looking for what you keep in the back," Willow said with a wealth of confidence.

"Right this way." He led them to a sealed door in the back. "Are there others?"

"She’s a potential. I’ve been training her."

"Okay." He pressed his palm to the door and it slowly opened. "Ladies can go in, but," he looked at Josh and Sam. "I’m sure you’ll find enough to occupy yourselves on this side of the door."

"No way," Sam said casting a wary eye at Willow. "I’m not letting you out of my sight. Especially not now."

"Trust me. It’s okay." She knew she shouldn’t but she reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before looking to Josh. "Stay in here. There are shielding and protective charms at this—"

"Porn shop." Josh finished.

"Location," Willow hastily countered.

"Yeah, we’ll be over by the videos," Josh said as he laid a hand on Sam and gave Donna a private look.

The blonde looked worried to leave Josh’s company but she gave a shaky smile. "Just don’t have too much fun." And with that, they were on the other side of the door and gone.

"Well," Sam said slowly keeping his eyes on the doorknob.

"Yup," Josh said as he rocked on his heels.

"So…"

"Wanna go check out the videos?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess we have some time to kill."

*~*~*

Zack had lost some of his swagger as he walked into Lilah’s office, but he still had his usual self-satisfied smirk. "Mornin."

Her eyes conveyed her surprise as she saw him shut the door. "I didn’t expect to see you walking so soon after what I was last night with Buffy."

Zack winked. And though the move was the height of arrogance, the look in his eyes stirred something inside the woman. "Trust me, I can do more than walk."

"Lock the door and prove it."

*~*~*

There was no way this was going to work. 

"There is no way this is gonna work," Faith said as she wiggled into a pair of scrubs. "No one’s gonna believe I’m a nurse." 

Lisa’s brows perked. "In this place? You’d be surprised." 

"And this is how Zack almost got out of the hospital once?" 

"Pretty much. If my mother hadn’t been on the floor doing rounds, he would’ve escaped." 

Faith rolled her eyes, hoisting her leg up so she could tie the sneakers Lisa had swiped for her. "It’s almost hard to imagine he’s an evil genius," she muttered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "All right. So who am I?" 

"Nurse Tisdale." Lisa plastered on a fake smile and handed her a clipboard. "Here’s your chart. Just follow me and we’ll get out of here." 

Faith arched a brow. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said you’re invited?" 

The nurse looked taken aback by the very notion that she wasn’t. "What do you mean by that? Of course I’m going! Zack is my friend—" 

"Was your friend." 

"And Kelly might need me. We were cheerleaders together. Those bonds go way back." 

"So far back she wouldn’t take your calls?" 

"Hey, she must’ve thought she couldn’t talk to me!" Lisa threw her hands in the air. "How the hell am I supposed to know? But I’m sure as hell not sitting here while my friends—former or otherwise—tear up my city and put people in the hospital!" 

"Yeah," Faith muttered. "You know what would help the most?" 

Lisa sighed and rolled her head. "Don’t even." 

"Staying here." 

"No way," she said shortly. "These are my friends, and if it’s as bad as you said it was, I’m sure as hell gonna be there." 

Faith rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fine," she murmured. "Whatever. It’s your funeral." 

"You’re a people person, aren’t you?" 

There was no need to respond. Faith tossed open the door and gestured emphatically, a fake smile stretching her lips. "Lead the way, Doc." 

*~*~* 

"You sure I can’t interest you ladies in one of our other amenities?" 

Willow’s cheeks, if possible, reddened even further. "No. I just need the herbs." 

The man behind the counter was repulsive; not the sort of vendor one would expect in the magical trade. Willow had long ago learned not to judge a book by its cover, but this was definitely the first being she’d encountered who fit the gross porn-store stereotype while doubling as a magic store operator. "I’m just sayin’…two ladies…I know a guy who knows a guy…if you’re lookin’ to score a Galleon or two…" 

"For the last time," the redhead growled, collecting her supplies, "we’re not going to make a dirty holo-screen." 

"That’s like video, right?" Donna muttered. 

"Right," Willow replied under her breath. 

"You don’t know what you’re missing," the guy said. "Galleons and galleons." 

"I have dignity, all right?" 

The guy didn’t look convinced. "We don’t get many witches or wizards in here for our herbs, if you catch my drift." His eyes drifted to the selection of vibrant dildos, the higher-priced variety promising instant and endless orgasms as long as they were inserted in the desired location. Another shelf featured enchanted cock-rings that reportedly made a man’s penis grow up to five times its normal size which, to Willow, sounded less erotic and more painful. Dangling from another display case were custom handcuffs, charmed to only open for the owner once activated. A display table featured interactive blow-up dolls that, with a simple spell, could be instructed to perform one of ten different scenarios, pending on the sort of doll purchased. 

"Call us the exception," Willow replied, heaving the supplies she’d selected onto the check-out counter. 

"Do those things really work?" Donna asked, her eyes glued to the magic cock-rings. 

"Donna!" 

"Like a charm," the vendor assured. 

"Not for me!" the blonde said quickly, her own cheeks flushing. "For…umm…a friend. A friend who’s also interested in the dildos." 

"I can’t believe this," Willow muttered, humiliation furthered by the vendor’s chuckles. "This isn’t why we’re here." 

"Well, while we are…I thought CJ could use—" 

"CJ?" 

Donna nodded hard, apparently determined to stick to her story. "CJ. These are for CJ." 

"I’m sure she’ll be thrilled," the vendor said with a wink. 

Willow moaned again. "I need to shower." 

*~*~* 

"What do you think they’re doing in there?" Sam asked, discreetly selecting a clit-stimulator from the display wall. 

"Honestly?" Josh replied, surveying the role-playing dice selection. "I don’t think we wanna know." 

*~*~*

"Your responsibility," Rosalie repeated, eyes narrowing. "Well, I’m sorry if the other watchers put you in a time-out, but this isn’t exactly your call to make." 

Hunter scowled. "I think you’ll find it is." 

"I think you’ll find you’re full of it." 

"Whether I am or not is not the issue here. Your safety—" 

"Is not the issue," Rosalie retorted. "And even if it were, you’re fighting a losing battle. I’ve been battling demons since I wore pull-ups, buster. I got daggers and crossbows for all the major holidays. I fought my way out polgara-demon infested alley with nothing more than a hairbrush and a bobby-pin, and didn’t leave any survivors. The fact that I have super-strength just makes me the best fucking candidate, and I don’t care if you’re my watcher or my accountant. We’re doing this my way." 

"Rosalie—" 

"Don’t make me put you back in the cage." 

Hunter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Aren’t you being a little childish?" 

A dark shiver raced down Rosalie’s spine, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Oh," she said darkly, "was that ever the wrong thing to say." 

Hunter discovered firsthand how wrong it was; in a blink, he was crashing hard into the wall, leaving a man-sized indention and a storm of plaster dust. And before he could begin to climb to his feet, Rosalie was a blur of motion racing for the lobby.

*~*~*

He heard them talking. It was impossible to hide from voices in this building—whispers seeped through the walls, tickling his ears and stirring his ire into a dangerous catapult, just waiting to be fired. The more he heard, the more certain he became; no one cared. No one cared that his world had crashed. No one cared that everything had changed. No one cared that his reason for being lay crooked and broken on his bed.

Their bed.

It was all about Buffy. The talk he heard, the plans in motion. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. Buffy, the Slayer. Buffy, the vampire. Buffy, a woman of terrific and terrible strength—a woman who had power when Fred possessed none. Fred had never had a chance—not the sort of chance Buffy had.

The sort of chance Buffy had wasted. And if Spike killed Zack, it wouldn’t be for the right reasons.

It wouldn’t be for the woman who would never smile again, it would be for the woman who would live forever.

Fred had no champion. Zack had killed her—ripped her out of this world, ripped her from the place where she belonged. And they—his friends, her friends—could only talk about Buffy.

Fred was gone and they’d already forgotten her.

But Wesley wouldn’t. He would never forget.

And if it was the last thing he did, the last thing he saw, he would make Zack bleed for what he’d stolen.

He’d make Zack bleed.

And to do that, Wesley just had to get there first.

*~*~*

Donna and Willow, both red-faced, stepped out of the back of the porno-magic shop about a half hour after entering, a stuffed plastic sack in each of their hands. Immediately, they ran into Josh and Sam who were in a similar state. Red-faced, eyes darting in every which direction, and both equipped with stuffed plastic sacks.

"What did you get?" Josh asked suspiciously, trying to peer into Donna’s bag.

"Stuff for CJ," Willow snickered, then turned red when the blonde sent an accusatory glare her way. "Ummm," she corrected nervously, "herbs."

"And you?" Sam asked.

"Herbs and a few magical supplies."

"And stuff for Kelly," Donna said in the same mocking tone. "Don’t forget the stuff for Kelly."

Willow turned redder. "Shhh!"

"Stuff for Kelly?" Josh asked.

Sam looked equally suspicious. "Stuff for CJ?" he questioned.

Willow and Donna exchanged a glance at that, fire in their eyes dying as they once, in one great moment of nonverbal communication, became allies once more. "Herbs," they said at the same time.

"Must be some herbs," Josh cracked.

"Well," Donna said suspiciously, "what did you guys get?"

Josh and Sam looked at each other before answering on the same beat, "Nothing."

"Well," Willow said, "as sufficiently awkward as this has been, we better get going. We can’t be too far now."

"Just as long as you don’t stop at any more ‘magic shops,’" Josh agreed, turning his eyes downward under Donna’s glare and leading the group solemnly back to the car.

*~*~*

"We have to go," Spike muttered under his breath, feet pointing in the other direction as his body pivoted on his heels to resume his pace. "We have to go. We have to go. We have to—"

"How long as he been like that?" Rosalie asked her father as she reemerged into the lobby, her eyes heavy.

"About ten minutes now," Wright replied soberly. The vampire had been pacing back and forth ever since the shouting stopped, his mind seemingly far-placed from the world he’d once inhabited. No one was certain if this was a step up from the tangled mess of tears he’d been just an hour before, or even the enraged monster he’d threatened to become the second he felt Zack raping Buffy. If anything, he looked and acted more on edge, only his behavior was more difficult to predict.

Kelly licked her lips with a sigh. "We’re going to have to do something and fast," she said. "I was able to stop him before…I don’t know if I can again."

"I still can’t believe little Kel went all slayer," Wright observed with a wry grin. It was the only thing he could say while remaining calm. "Must’ve been a sight to see."

"You have no idea," Giles remarked, voice proud but eyes worried. He was watching Spike with grave understanding.

The vampire was a stick of dynamite on a very short fuse, and he was going to blow very soon.

"I say we move once Faith’s released," Rosalie whispered.

Wright nodded absently before registering who had spoken. With perked brows, he whirled around to face his daughter. "‘We?’" he said, crossing his arms. "I thought we talked about this."

"Yes, well, you yelled. I’m still going."

"No, you’re not."

"Guys!" Kelly hissed, eyes trained on Spike, whose movements became more agitated with the introduction of raised voices.

Ignoring her, Rosalie persisted, "I’m going. I’m the best shot we have—"

Wright barked an incredulous laugh. "You’re what?"

A hard crashing sound knocked through the hallway; Hunter, ruffled and bruised, tumbled into the lobby, eyes wide with panic. "Rosalie, you can’t—"

"Yes, I can." Rosalie rolled her shoulders and met her father’s eyes, though by this time, she had everyone’s attention. "I’m the Slayer."

Spike stopped pacing. Cordelia gasped. Kelly covered her mouth. Giles craned his neck. Gunn just stared.

Wright blinked, dumbfounded. She might as well have been speaking in Swahili. "You’re…what?"

"I’m the Slayer," Rosalie said, though this time with less confidence. "Faith died. Maybe not forever, but long enough. And I was tapped. When Wolfram and Hart was here earlier…none of you noticed…and I didn’t even know then, but I was fighting them off left and right. I’m the Slayer…and if we have two slayers—"

"No."

Rosalie blinked. "No?"

Wright shook his head. "No. You’re not the Slayer. I don’t give you permission to be the Slayer."

A long pause; the room exchanged a series of glances.

"Dad…"

"No. No. I’m your father and I say you’re not the Slayer. Your life is dangerous enough—"

"It doesn’t quite work that way, Mr. Wright," Hunter offered meekly.

Wright’s head jerked, pinpointing his favorite scapegoat. "You knew about this?"

Hunter’s eyes went wide. "I—"

"The Slayer," Spike murmured, though it was obvious from his tone that his thoughts were far and away from the conversation. His eyes were sad and distant, sparked with fire strong enough to put the fear of God in the fiercest of demons. "The Slayer…"

"When Faith’s out of the hospital, we have to move," Rosalie said firmly. "And you’ll need me. The Slayer. In case we haven’t gotten the memo by now, the witch or whoever—"

"Willow," Kelly offered softly.

"Yeah," the young slayer said with a nod. "She ain’t coming. Maybe she never was coming."

"Now hold on there," Giles interjected, only to be overridden.

"We don’t have any options left, and this isn’t your call to make." Rosalie nodded with conviction. "I’m the Slayer…and Zack won’t see me coming."

"Because you aren’t."

Rosalie’s eyes blazed. "Dad!"

"You aren’t!"

"Don’t make me hit you. I pack a mean punch now."

Hunter raised his hands to his swollen eyes. "She does."

Kelly swallowed hard, stepping forward. Over the past few hours, she’d assumed a role with which she wasn’t comfortable, yet likewise knew she had to wear. With Spike half out of his mind and Buffy gone, she had to be the leader they needed. She had to make impartial decisions, even if they weren’t popular. "If she is the Slayer," she said somberly. "Then we’ll need her."

Wright whirled around again. "Kelly!"

"Zack thinks Faith is dead. He doesn’t know about Rosalie…he thinks she…from when…" Her eyes fogged and she glanced away, but didn’t lose her determination. "If she is the Slayer, she’s a weapon…and we’re going to need every weapon we have if we want to get Buffy back."

"Buffy," Spike gasped, eyes focused on nothing.

Wright sighed hard and looked back to his daughter; it was a long, cold beat before resignation sank in.

And just like that, he knew what he had to do.

What he had no choice in doing.

*~*~*

"We’re almost there!" Willow cried victoriously. "Get off on the next exit, and it’s about a block and a half down 33rd street. Just let me…Donna, my bag? I need the mango root."

Josh’s head whipped around the passenger-seat. "You mean you actually did buy herbs?"

The redhead glared at him. "Yes. What did you buy?"

Sam and Josh exchanged a quick glance and answered on the same beat. "Nothing."


	30. Chapter 30

It couldn’t be what she thought it was, and yet there was no denying the clean unshaven appearance of the man ill-fated to be her watcher. Faith stopped just short of the Hyperion walkway to gape upward. Wesley was many things, but he very rarely found himself needing to sneak out the fire-escape of his own home…or so she thought. A sense of cold, undeniable dread shivered down her spine.

If Wesley was trying to leave without notice, something must have happened.

Something…well, she didn’t know what, but something not good.

"Hey!" she called as her former watcher hit the ground, his legs automatically taking off in a hard run in the opposite direction.

"Who’s that?" the nurse behind her asked.

Faith ignored her, taking off after him. "Wes!"

The sound of his name just made the man move faster. Faster, faster, but even still, his speed was nothing to a slayer’s. In easy seconds, he found himself face-first on the pavement, wiggling hard and doing his best to toss her off.

"Fah—"

"Easy there, cowboy," Faith cooed, jerking his wrists behind him. "Where’s the fire?"

"Gotta…no…let me up!"

"Where are the others?"

"In the hotel," he spat. "Let me go! I gotta get there—"

"Get where?"

"Zack."

Faith’s brows perked. "Solo?" she replied, climbing warily to her feet and dragging him with her. "Don’t think so, Ahab."

When Wesley turned to face her, she found herself lost in a sea of thick, suffocating sorrow. Sorrow so deep, so resounding, it made an unknown or long-forgotten chord in her psyche tremble with recognition. And just like that, she knew.

She knew something terrible had happened. Terrible beyond her wildest expectations.

"What the crap happened while I was gone?" Faith demanded. "Wes…"

"He killed her."

The ‘he’ part was easy to decipher. "Killed who?" she asked.

There was nothing but silence. Wesley looked seconds from breaking.

"Killed who?" Faith demanded again. "Who did he kill?"

"Fred."

A long pause. And then she said something she shouldn’t have. "Which one was Fred?"

As a teenager, Faith had never appreciated the fury in which a man could react. In a blink, Wesley transformed from a figure twisted with sorrow to one burning with outrage. His eyes blazed and his arm swung, backhanding her hard enough to rock her balance but not enough to throw her off her game.

If anything, hitting a slayer was not a good move.

As Wesley discovered when Faith’s fist smashed into his jaw, sending him flying into the concrete wall that lined the sidewalk.

"You don’t get to do that," she spat. "And you don’t get to go on suicide missions."

"Ahh…"

Steps from behind. Lisa. Faith sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Come on," she said, moving forward to help the man to his feet. "Let’s get you home."

Wesley shook his head weakly. "No…"

"Yes," she replied in the same tone. "No one’s getting themselves killed tonight."

At least, she added silently, not on her watch.

And not like this.

*~*~*

As the door opened with a bright flash of sunlight, the room was paralyzed with fear. There was only so much that any one being could handle in a twenty-four hour period and they had all reached their breaking point.

"Sorry," Willow said with exasperation as she stumbled inside the Hyperion carrying armfuls of bags. "Trust me when I say I have an excuse."

"Oh my god," Giles said with relief as he ran over to relieve the witch of her load.

"Thank goodness," Kelly cried as she ran over to help an overwhelmed Donna.

Josh looked half-dead. "Seriously, this has been the worst night ever. And that’s saying something considering the last bad night we had together."

"Buffy’s been kidnapped," Giles quietly explained.

"Well, Willow went all black-eyed and tried to kill us." Josh dropped his bags to the ground.

"Zack killed Fred and Nikki," Kelly whispered in horror.

"We were attacked by a band of demons and Donna had to rescue us with her Magic for Dummies."

"Zack has been on a murderous rampage," Cordelia emphasized.

"Hey you’re really pregnant," Willow said noticing her former classmate for the first time.

"Really," Cordy emphasized.

"Well, we had to stop by this magic porn shop and then got chased by these three horny demons. Luckily after the car ran out of gas, Willow was able to find some Floo Powder, then Josh made a wrong turn and we started to head toward Albuquerque, but Donna started to drive and we made it here after a brief stop at the In and Out for a bathroom break."

"Who the fuck are you?" Spike asked.

"A friend I never wanted you to meet," Josh explained.

Sam shrugged. "I don’t even know what the hell Floo Powder is at this point."

Wright stood up and walked over to the witch. "So, you think you can get this show on the road?"

"I’m kinda weak right now, but with some help I should be able to re-ensoul Zack."

"And get is into Wolfram and Hart," Wright emphasized.

Willow’s eyes went wide for the briefest moment. "With Giles, Kelly and Donna I should be able to."

"Lorne is on his way," Gunn interjected.

Willow gravely nodded. "Okay." She then walked over to sit in the vacant seat next to Spike. "So what’s the plan?"

"We’re forming the team that’s gonna break into Wolfram and Hart."

Spike spoke for the first time since the newest group arrived. "Is anyone gonna ask about a porn shop?"

"Thank you," Rosalie muttered in relief.

"Magic shop," Donna clarified.

"Porn shop," Cordelia insisted.

"Magic shops have a wide array of fronts," Willow muttered.

Giles reached down into a random bag and pulled out something far from "magical." "Good god," he said in horror as he dropped it back inside.

"My bad," Josh said quickly. "That one was mine." All eyes turned to the political operative. "Well not for me as such as for—"

Luckily the doors burst open in that moment and Faith sauntered in with a distraught Wesley thrown over her shoulder. "Hey guy! I was out for a stroll and you wouldn’t guess what I found. Anybody looking for a slightly pissed ex-watcher?"

"Oh, Wes," Cordy cried as she ran over.

"Put me the fuck down," the rogue demon hunter spat.

"Warning, he’s a bit cranky. Any good place to put him while he cools off?"

"The cage," Wright and Hunter said in unison before sharing a momentary glance.

Gunn and Giles came forward to escort their friend down into the basement.

"How the hell did you get out?" Wright asked Faith as reality hit him. "When I left you were restrained to the bed and sleeping off an elephant tranquilizer."

Faith grinned a hallow smile and pointed back to Lisa. "She arranges prison breaks after hours."

"What the fuck?" Spike growled as he noticed the nurse.

"How the hell did you find us?" Kelly spat.

"Lisa!" Melody Morris cried as she came forward and hugged the woman. "I’m so glad you’re okay. I meant to call, but with everything that’s happened I never got a chance."

"Let go of her you evil woman!" Kelly cried. "And get out of here!"

"Hold the phone, Wonder Woman," Faith snapped. "She only let me out so I could come help you and Prince Evil Charming. She’s just wondering why in the past decade you never returned her calls."

"Huh? I returned all her calls until she became a bitch after marrying Xander."

Lisa pulled away from Melody and looked at Kelly with a mixture of hurt, anger and confusion. "One, I have no clue who Xander is so I would be bitchy if I married him. Two, you never returned my calls after I received that email telling me not to go to Washington. And three, I’ve been looking all over for you, Zack, Jessie and Slater for a decade and this is the welcome you give me?"

"Hate to interrupt the moment, but now that Willow and Faith are here, can we not get the plan underway." Rosalie was as anxious as anyone. Not only was this her first real fight as a slayer, but she had heaps of vengeance to give Zack Morris.

"Right," Wright agreed with a solemn nod. "Willow, Kelly, Giles, Lorne and…" he gestured toward Donna. "Will work the magic. Meantime Spike, Faith, Gunn and I will infiltrate Wolfram and Hart."

"I’m going with you," Rosalie clarified.

"Like hell!"

"You need me."

"To stay here."

"Kelly can man the Hyperion."

"You are not going out there." He turned to Faith. "Tell her that just because she’s the new slayer, she doesn’t have the ability to just jump in and fight."

Faith turned to her young protégée. "New slayer, huh? Far out." She turned to Wright. "Sounds like she’s game in."

"What? Fuck…No!"

Faith shrugged. "Why not?" She looked to Rosalie. "So have you met the stuck-up tool they paired you with?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes and pointed to Hunter. "Bollocks!" he cried.

Faith’s calm and passive demeanor disappeared as a wave of laughter escaped from the dark slayer. "You’re fucking shitting me!"

"I wish," Rosalie pouted.

"Sod off, Faith," Hunter growled.

"Seriously, you?" Faith chuckled. "You’d rather fuck a slayer than train one. I know, baby."

"What the fuck?" Wright growled.

"Believe me when I say you’re the best they’ve got…in every way. But putting you two together is like putting three vamps in a room and not expecting an orgy. Besides, I know how you like a slayer’s pussy and you’ve got the perfect combo of smart, sexy, nerdy and brood to make you every adolescent’s wet dream. I give it six months tops before you two are banging in the cemetery."

Hunter and Rosalie shared a horrified look.

Faith shrugged. "So let’s get this party started."

*~*~*

Zack walked in with a Marlboro between his teeth a gleam in his eyes. "So how’s it hanging?"

Buffy didn’t bother to look up. She kept her eyes on the puddle of blood that slowly dripped from her wounds. "That’s the best you got?"

"Not really, but I’ve always been a fan of cheesy puns."

"I can tell."

"I would brutally rape you again, but I’m actually not in the mood." He took a long drag before stepping over and wiping his hand across one of her oozing cuts. She hid her flinch well, but they both felt it. He licked his bloody fingers before taking another hit of his cigarette. "So how long do you think it’s gonna take your man before he runs in here on his white horse?"

"Probably just long enough to sharpen up the stake he’s gonna shove through your heart."

"You know, I’ve always admired your moxie. Really. You’ve got gumption. Must be a slayer quality because Faith had it to. I tasted it just as I sucked that last drop of blood from her throat."

"What can I say, we’ve got spirit," she said dryly.

"I just hope that the next slayer does, too," Zack drawled.

"She will."

"Good." And with that she put the cigarette out right in the middle of a deep cut across the small of her back. "Because I’m starting to get used to the fight."

*~*~*

"I should go."

"No, you really shouldn’t."

Hunter scowled and marched forward with what he undoubtedly intended to be an intimidating aura. For her part, Faith didn’t even bother glancing up from where she stood beside the weapons cabinet, surveying Wright’s prized sword. "Look," he said hotly. "Rosalie is my slayer—"

Faith favored him with a sideways glance. "If she’s not now, she damn well will be, won’t she, big boy?"

"What does that even mean? And don’t answer." Hunter shuddered and shook his head. "You have no authority to assume anything in this matter. I don’t—"

"Yeah, well, this is me…" Faith sheathed the sword into a utility belt Wright had located for her before demonstrably spreading her arms. "Assuming authority. And I say the kid goes…and you stay here."

"You have no right!"

"Aww, don’t tell me the whiny watcher’s gonna throw a hissy fit." Faith grinned nastily. "I’d really hate to tell the others your academy nickname."

A look of pure horror swept over Hunter’s face. "How…I…how…?"

"Let’s just say you’re not the only one bustin’ it up on Chatter Watch."

"That it for watchers only!"

"Well, serves you right for turning over and falling asleep after we met up in Buenos Aires," Faith retorted with a shrug. "Limp-dick or not, you oughta at least give a girl some pillow talk or she’s bound to start riflin’ through your stuff."

Hunter’s face fell considerably. "Look," he whispered, edging closer. "We are not to talk about Buenos Aires, or that time in Manchester—"

"—or in Virginia Beach, I’m guessing."

"Right."

"Don’t think the dad’ll buy it," Faith advised, tossing a long look across the room where Wright was doing his best to scare Rosalie out of coming with them. From the looks of things, he was failing miserably. "The monk routine. You might have a limp one, but you got the look of a kid who used it at least once."

"There is nothing limp about my…appendage," Hunter refuted, skin so red he might as well have been guiding a fat man’s sleigh. "Need I remind you that you are not in charge here?"

Faith’s brows perked. "I don’t see anyone else vying for the job, do you, Wimbledon? Spike’s half nuts, Buffy’s gone, Wright’s playin’ dad, Kelly’s tryin’ to keep everyone calm, and Wes is locked in a cage downstairs. The way it plays out is this: I’m the Slayer. Not the only slayer, mind you, but right now, in this room, I’m the best one we got. The Slayer? Pretty much always in charge. So if you follow this through to its logical conclusion—"

"Faith—"

"—you’ll see that you need to shut that hole you call a mouth or it’ll be shut for you." She smiled unpleasantly. "Rosalie’s on the team. The girl’s wicked strong, if that bruise on your chin hasn’t told you."

Hunter shifted self-consciously. "I still say I should be allowed to come along," he said softly. "Wesley is locked up downstairs, as you so astutely observed, and Wright will want to go with his daughter. That leaves Gunn by himself guarding the perimeter."

"You’ve met Gunn, right?"

"Faith—"

She shrugged. "Just sayin’, he don’t strike me as a guy whose bark is worse than the other thing, you know?"

"Faith—"

A pause; she held up a hand and rolled her eyes, nodding her acquiescence. "Sure, fine," she muttered. "Just grab something pointy and don’t get yourself killed."

Hunter sighed, his shoulders rolling back. "Didn’t know you cared," he said.

*~*~*

Willow glanced up from where she was seated cross-legged on the kitchen counter. "Donna," she said, licking her lips and tightening her grip on the herbs in her hands. "You happen to remember what I did to make the shimmer back in the motel room?"

The blonde made her way over, throwing a cautious glance to the middle of the lobby, where an increasingly-agitated Spike kept pacing up and down a three-meter strip as everyone got ready to set out. "I remember there was soap and cheap shampoo involved," she replied. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, we need to get them in," Willow said, nodding to the group, "and I don’t think I have strength enough to put a veil of protection over them and reensoul Zack."

"I have a feeling you’re about to ask me to do something way over my head."

"Giles will help," the redhead offered brightly.

Donna sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "All right," she conceded, sighing. "Although I don’t see how a shimmer will help."

"Well, it’s not a shimmer. It’s a veil."

"Now you’re just getting technical."

Willow’s eyes narrowed. "It uses a lot of the same basic elements," she said. "If done correctly—"

"There’s a big if."

"—it should operate as an invisibility cloak with an extreme half-life because it also mutes sound." She turned to collect the laptop she’d left charging at her side, flipping it open. "This combined with my hack-job…"

"Hack-job?"

"What hack job?" Gunn asked, materializing from nowhere and causing both women to jump.

"Where did you come from?" Donna demanded, her hand over her heart.

Gunn just stared at her. "I live here. We’re settin’ up Cordy in her special bunker after she and Wright stopped with the homemade porn of goodbyes." He nodded at the laptop. "What’s up with the hack-job?"

"Wolfram and Hart. I was able to get through the firewall—"

Gunn’s eyes went right. "You what?"

"That’s amazing!" Donna appraised.

"You can’t tell me Wolfram and Hart, the evilest of all evils, was that easy to hack," Gunn said, saturated with incredulity. "They must have killer security."

"Killer," Willow agreed gravely.

"But—"

The redhead held up a hand. "I’m just that good, okay? I’ve been a hacker since high school." She turned to Donna. "I managed to shut off the alarms that signal the vamp-detectors while maintaining a façade that they’re still operational."

"Damn," Gunn muttered, wide eyes absorbing the screen. "That’s amazing."

"I’m that good," Willow explained again before he could ask. She turned again to Donna. "So while we have it monitored from that angle, I need the veil for our guys so they’re not seen or heard. Think I can trust you to get it done?"

Donna’s face fell. "Do you really need to say it like that?"

The redhead grinned. "Knew I could count on you."

*~*~*

Faith sighed as she took center stage. Strange how she’d spent so much time wanting this position—jealousy-wrought years watching Buffy lead others against foes. She’d wanted the attention and respect Buffy naturally commanded, but now, that Buffy was out of the picture, all Faith wanted was Buffy back.

She wanted Buffy back. And not only because the attention was unwanted…because she missed her.

Faith missed Buffy. That sure as fuck wasn’t in the brochure. She and Buffy weren’t even friends.

No…but they were sisters.

"All right," Faith said, clasping her hands together. "Will and blondie are workin’ on the mojo. That leaves Wright, Spike, newbie…" She turned to Rosalie and nodded with a grin, "and yours truly, on the rescue beat. Gunn and Steel Balls here…" She tossed Hunter a wink, who promptly flushed. "On watch-duty."

Wright’s brows perked. "Boy Wonder’s coming?"

"I could really do without the nicknames," Hunter murmured.

"Watch duty?" Rosalie asked. "What?"

"The four of us are heading down to do the ass-bustin’," the Slayer explained. "We need people lookin’ for party-crashers."

"And you chose Underdog?"

"Really," Hunter intervened, "the nicknames."

Faith shook her head and grinned. "Right. So, I figure we roll it like this. Me and Rosalie here knock it in first."

"Hating this already," Wright murmured.

"Relax, I’ll be headin’ in before she does. We need to take out Zack first and clear a path for Spike to get Buffy out." Faith turned to the vampire, who glanced up to offer a concise nod, letting her know he was listening. "All right. Now we’re waiting for blondie’s concoction."

"The sooner the better," Wright muttered, tossing Spike a look. And Faith knew what he was thinking.

It was only a matter of time before the vampire snapped.

*~*~*

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t focus on more than one person at a time. And every second reminded him how much further he had to go—how he feared he wouldn’t be able to get to her for the fact that all he saw was red.

"Be careful."

Spike glanced up, bleary eyes taking in Kelly’s concerned face. "I can’t stop this," he said, holding up a shaking hand. "I don’…if I fuck this up, Christ—"

"You won’t."

"How do you know?"

"Because it’s you and Buffy," she replied. "When it comes to her, you see clearly. She just needs to be in front of you." Kelly sighed and glanced down. "Donna’s almost done. She and Giles are tossing in some ingredients, and Lorne’s gonna look over it before they mark you, but…you’ll get her back, Spike."

He looked at her for a long minute before nodding, a sense of peace, strained as it was, washing over him. While a thousand things could go wrong, there was comfort in the knowledge that he wouldn’t fail her. If he lost Buffy, it would be over his dust.

"Willow’s gonna do the spell, isn’t she?"

Kelly pursed her lips and nodded. "Yeah."

"I can’t promise I won’t kill him. Soul or no bloody soul."

"I know," she replied. "And won’t ask you to. I came to peace a long time ago with…with whatever happened. He’s…Zack is gone. If he comes back…even if he were to…the things he’s done…he wouldn’t be the same man. And I love him. I do, Spike, no matter what he’s done, I do love the man he was…but I know killing him is just. He’s caused too much pain, and if I don’t see him again…" She sniffled and glanced down, wiping at her eyes. "It’ll hurt, but I’m already…I’m already in mourning. I’ve been in mourning since he threatened to kill my son. Zack’s been dead for a long time. Willow’s spell…if anything…I just hope, if it works, it slows him down long enough to so you can get Buffy to safe ground. Zack has no right to live…not with what he’s done."

It took a brave woman to utter those words, and for a long minute, Spike had little idea how to react. Kelly was someone he felt he’d always taken for granted, even if he regarded her with brotherly, at times fatherly affection. But he’d never once thought her capable of making the really tough choices—choices that would affect not only her life and the long, lonely road ahead, but her children.

Her children could well grow up without a father, with only the memory of someone who had once loved them, who had exited after threatening to paint the walls with their blood. And Kelly was willing to do that. Even now, even when Willow was here, when Willow could well restore Zack’s soul within the hour, Kelly wasn’t begging for mercy. She wasn’t pleading Zack’s case or arguing how he wasn’t the same man who had killed Fred and mutilated Nikki; how he wasn’t the same man who assaulted Rosalie or put Faith in the hospital. She knew he wasn’t, but she wasn’t arguing her husband’s fate.

Just as Spike knew the Zack he’d befriended so many years ago—his best friend, his brother—wasn’t the same person who had shackled Buffy in the dungeons of Wolfram and Hart, doing God-knows what to her body. Spike knew it. He understood. Zack, Zangy, had left them against his will…but there was a very real part of him that lurked inside the beast terrorizing the city. A very real part.

Spike didn’t want to kill Zack. He didn’t.

Which was why it was a good thing his friend was already dead. The only thing left to do was dispose the body.


	31. Chapter 31

"Can you explain to me again how this is supposed to work?" Donna asked, wrinkling her nose at the sticky green paste she’d grinded into one of Cordelia’s fiesta-wear dishes. "Because I think I’m confused."

"It works like the shimmer," Willow said from where she still sat on the check-in counter, trying to make a pencil float. It levitated after five seconds of hard concentration, jazzing her spirits and earning an excited, "Ohh! Ohh! Check it out!"

"Good for you!"

"Hate to be a spoilsport," Giles intervened, "but you do know performing the restoration spell and floating writing utensils are different principles altogether, don’t you?"

Willow’s eyes narrowed. "No, I haven’t been studying magic since high school, why’d you ask?"

"Well, I—"

"And I certainly don’t teach at a renowned school for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Giles sighed and removed his glasses. "That’s hardly called for."

"I know what I’m doing. Promise. I just gotta exercise the magic muscles before I put them to use." Willow turned back to Donna and rolled her eyes. "Honestly."

"She tried to end the world again," the blonde added unhelpfully.

"Thank you very much for that."

Donna held up the paste. "How does this work again?"

"It’s very simple. Dab a little onto each of their foreheads. If you mixed the ingredients properly, it should fade on contact." Willow’s eyes pointed at a heavy textbook at the end of the counter, and within seconds, it was levitating a good six inches off the surface. "It won’t make them invisible so much as…uninteresting."

"I’m confused."

"Anyone who’s not looking for them won’t pay them much attention…no matter what they do or say."

"But all of Wolfram and Hart—"

"Wolfram and Hart don’t expect them to just walk in the front door," Willow reasoned. "If they expected it, it might be a problem…but they don’t…and they certainly don’t expect Rosalie and Faith to be guiding the way. The only one they might expect is Spike, but I’m banking on the spell being good enough it shouldn’t matter until they get to Zack."

Donna glanced doubtfully at the substance in her bowl. "Do I want to know why you’re banking on the spell being good enough?"

"You did fine. I watched you. Giles watched you. Even Lorne—"

"I’m a fledgling, Willow!"

"You’re a rock-star, Donna. Go get ‘em!"

The blonde stared hard at her concoction a minute longer before inhaling deeply and nodding to herself. "Right," she said, making a move for the others. "Just dab this on their foreheads, and then it’s out of my hands."

"You did fine."

"Yeah, but do the restoration spell anyway, okay?"

Donna lingered just a beat longer before disappearing into the lobby to disperse the potion, leaving Willow alone with her levitation exercises.

Giles took the opportunity to intervene again. "I would just like to add that the restoration spell is especially complicated. And—"

Willow seared him with a look. "I did it when I was sixteen and knew nothing about magic."

"Yes, well, we were attacked at first."

"I’m not gonna Sunnydale us," the redhead continued, "but I think our odds might be…you know, the thing."

"The thing?"

"The thing I’m not going to say."

Giles looked at her a minute longer. "I think your moving to England actually hindered my ability to understand you."

Willow shrugged. "Guess you forgot how to speak British."

"I daresay I might have."

*~*~*

"Do you remember the way?" Wright asked, resisting the temptation to wipe away the goo the cute blonde had speared across his forehead. It had apparently vanished the second it hit skin, but the feeling hadn’t subsided. "To the dungeon, I mean. Where they kept her last time? I’m thinking they aren’t a group that tries to get too innovative with the…you know, plans."

There was a long pause; a haunted look fell over Spike’s face, a look Wright knew well by now. A look the vampire had worn nonstop when they first knew each other. A lifetime ago in very similar circumstances. "There are some things, mate," Spike said softly, "you don’t forget."

A beat.

"Yeah, unless your memories are taken from you and replaced with something entirely bogus."

Spike glanced up. "Right," he agreed, "unless that."

*~*~*

The walk from the Hyperion to the law offices of Wolfram and Hart wasn’t an exceptionally long one, but for what lay ahead, it might as well have been miles. They walked a solemn two-by-two, about two meters spread between each row; Faith and Rosalie led Spike and Wright, with Gunn and Hunter trailing behind. Faith had Wright’s sword holstered to her side and a stake curled in her hand. Rosalie had the crossbow with which her father had gifted her for her twelfth birthday party slung over her shoulder, as well as a stake pressed between the small of her back and the hemline of her leggings. Wright carried a crossbow near identical to his daughter’s, only larger and marked with clear signs of aging, as well as an assortment of other items strapped strategically across his body.

Spike had naught but his fangs. He didn’t need anything else.

"So," Faith said quietly, nudging Rosalie with her shoulder. "New slayer, huh?"

"That’s what they tell me," Rosalie agreed.

"And Nancy Nicky…"

The younger girl frowned. "Who?"

Faith grinned and nodded backward. Rosalie’s eyes went wide.

"Nancy Nicky?"

"Before he went by Hunter…"

Rosalie stifled a giggle, shaking her head. "Wow. Yeah, now that you mention it, I can really see that." She enjoyed a few quiet seconds of laughter, most of which was nervous, and understandably so. It was the first time she was going into battle knowingly with new powers on her shoulders. "So," she said softly. "You and Hunter go way back, huh?"

"We meet up every now and then," Faith agreed. "The Council had me on a short leash for a few years. We were sent to Argentina on assignment about a year ago. Really, every time somethin’ started brewin’ that Buffy wasn’t around to stop, I was the first phone call. I think they send their young and spry, which was why we kept runnin’ into each other."

The girl nodded, though her question hadn’t quite been answered. "But when you guys meet," she pressed, "clothes tend to be…nonexistent."

Faith favored the younger slayer with a sly grin. "It’s a rough gig," she replied, shrugging. "Fucking’s a good way to work off tension."

Rosalie’s nose wrinkled. "Eww."

"Oh, don’t give me that."

"What?"

"Look, I didn’t fall off the turn-up truck yesterday," Faith said wryly. "You’re young and healthy, and you’re at the age when you don’t think boys got cooties. Hunter’s not ugly."

"Yeah," Rosalie agreed. "But he’s my Watcher."

"Bonus. You got an excuse to do some after-hours wrasslin’."

"Yeah, and my dad would kill him."

The older Slayer shrugged. "At least you got folks who give a shit," she retorted. "Besides, you won’t be young and cute forever…well, cute probably, but not young, and if you’re lookin’ for a boy to give it to, Hunter’s as nice as they come…but I’ll be mother-fucked if I ever tell him that."

Rosalie shook her head. "I’m not looking to hook-up with my watcher," she said. "Or…you know…anyone. Being violated by your uncle kinda puts the excitement out of losing one’s virginity."

There was a pause at that, a wise, sober look overwhelming Faith’s otherwise hardened features. "You get over it," she said softly. "Don’t seem possible at first, but you do. Get back on the horse and ride the pain out."

An awkward silence. Rosalie swallowed hard. "You—"

"Long time ago."

There was an unmistakable note of finality in Faith’s voice—one Rosalie understood and had to respect. "Well," the younger girl said a minute later, desperate to migrate away from the awkward air that had settled over them. "I’m not interested in jumping on any horse. So if you and Hunter wanna work out…umm…kinks later, feel free."

Faith’s brows perked. "Now there’s an idea I can get behind. All the other eligible men are taken."

"I know you don’t mean my father."

A very womanly, and from Rosalie’s point of view, gross look washed over Faith’s face. While she knew, logically, her father had enjoyed sex with many women, one in particular over the past decade; she really didn’t want to think about it. Which made what the older slayer said next very uncomfortable. "He gave me an orgasm so rich I passed out. That’s never happened before. Too fuckin’ bad about Cordy…well, for me, at least. I’d’ve been all over that action if it weren’t for the old ball and chain."

From behind them, Wright cleared his throat. Loudly. Rosalie felt a bizarre combination of wanting to puke and wanting to die. She hadn’t realized their volume had escalated; she could only hope he hadn’t heard the parts about Hunter.

She hoped Hunter hadn’t heard the parts about Hunter.

"The old ball and chain," Rosalie said instead, "is my mother."

"Still, I could’ve been fucked sideways several times now. Especially seeing as he can’t stand me. Angry sex is the fuckin’ best."

Wright coughed again, and the group fell silent once more. The silence followed them through the streets of Los Angeles until the shadow of the overbearing Wolfram and Hart main office swallowed them whole. There was some hesitation upon waltzing inward, some uncertainty when a few random receptionists glanced up to visually acknowledge them, but when no one came forward to apprehend them, the general consensus was that Donna’s spell had worked. The paste, invisible as it was, had effectively removed them from Wolfram and Hart’s radar.

"Lead the way, boys," Faith said, stepping aside for Spike and Wright to take command.

And then they were running. Something in the blond vampire’s body had broken and calm strides could no longer contain him. The group followed, hot on Spike’s heels, snaking through an elaborate labyrinth of offices and corridors, board rooms and supply closets. Deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole until arriving at a dead end—save for the door marked "SPECIAL PROJECTS: LIVE CAPTIVITY OBSERVATION LAB."

"Here?" Faith asked, wiping her brow.

Spike didn’t respond so much as grip the door handle and rip it off its hinges. He disappeared into a hallway of shadows before anyone could respond.

"Here," the Slayer agreed, sighing and nodding to Wright. "Go slow him down."

"Yeah," Wright agreed slowly. It wasn’t difficult following his train of thought. Anyone who got in Spike’s way now was asking for an early death. "It was nice knowing you guys."

Faith shook her head and turned back to the group. "Here’s hopin’ I didn’t just send a man to his funeral. Okay. Gunn, Nancy Nicky—"

"Faith!" Hunter protested, eyes wide.

"Awesome," Gunn appraised with a laugh. "That’s gonna stick."

For her part, Faith ignored them. "—watch the door. Don’t let anyone through, but if it stops bein’ your choice, make sure you do a lot of yellin’. The Kid and I," she nodded to Rosalie, "go in first. Me then you. You got it?"

Rosalie nodded shortly. "Got it."

Hunter scowled. "Why can’t you ever be that agreeable with me?"

"‘Cause Faith doesn’t annoy the shit out of me."

"I’m thinkin’ you’ll be more of a surprise," Faith reasoned with a shrug. "Me not bein’ dead is one thing, but two slayers? I’m the cake; you’re the icin’."

Rosalie shrugged. "I can live with that."

"Knew you could, kiddo." She winked. "All right. Let’s do this thing."

*~*~*

"So you’re not even going to tell me why you hate me so much?" Lisa asked, resuming her oh so annoying habit of following Kelly around the Hyperion lobby. "We were best friends for ten years. I don’t understand—" 

"Shut up!" Kelly hissed, taking her seat on the foyer sofa. 

"But if Zack is—" 

"Shut up." 

Willow had taken her seat at the head of the sacred circle around the Orb of Thesulah. Donna sat at her left, and Giles at her right. "We’re ready," she said, nodding to Kelly. "Cue smelly herbs." 

"What’s happening?" Lisa whispered loudly. 

Kelly ignored her, waving around the herb.

 _"Quod perditum est, invenietur,"_ Giles recited. 

Willow glanced down, her heart pounding, her ears ringing. This was the first spell she’d ever performed—she’d done magic well beyond this in the years since Angelus’s reign of terror in Sunnydale…yet so much was riding on this. So terribly much… 

She didn’t know if it was good or bad to be nervous, but she hoped the former.

"Not dead, nor not of the living," she said slowly. "Spirits of the interregnum I call…" 

*~*~*

How Wright managed to pull the reins on Spike was beyond anyone’s guess, but Faith couldn’t be more grateful. If Spike had pushed his way through the doors into Buffy’s prison, he would have likely gotten both her and himself killed.

"Stay behind us," she barked, unsheathing the sword on her belt. "We get Zack, and you get Buffy. You can’t do that if you’re dead."

"Just do it fast or no one’s gonna be alive enough to do rot," Spike snarled.

Wright’s eyes were wide and concerned. "I think he means it."

"Yeah, well, settle down." Faith grunted and raised her leg to the door separating them from Buffy. "Mama’s goin’ to work."

The door exploded with a ferocious kick, dust storming upward and momentarily fogging the horrible view of Buffy strung up in the middle of the dungeon. Faith didn’t want to flinch but she couldn’t help herself. The Slayer was hardly visible through the cuts on her body, the streams of blood running down her legs, the nasty mess made of her womanhood and the bite marks accenting her breasts. There was no mistaking Buffy’s eyes, though, nor the relief that poured through them the second they clashed with Faith’s.

She could only afford to look at Buffy for a moment. As much as her heart went out to her, Buffy was Spike’s priority.

Faith’s priority was the one by the wall, surveying an elaborate selection of torture devices. He whirled around a second later, eyes widening with shock beyond shock. Shock that could give the living a heart-attack. Shock that jolted one to such a point where movement wasn’t an option, where reality was defined by what wasn’t seen, because one’s eyes couldn’t be trusted.

She smirked. Yeah. This was the good part.

"What the—"

"Payback’s here," Faith drawled, raising her sword. "And boy, she’s a bitch."

Then everything went into slow motion—time stalled and sped all at once. She felt her feet rushing forward, her leg swinging out and connecting with the cushy part of Zack’s gut as her sword swiped at his chest, missing its target but snagging his shoulder. Behind her, she heard Spike’s devastated roar. Felt the walls shaking, felt the ground trembling, felt everything come tumbling down as the world collapsed around them. She wanted to look, but looking wasn’t an option.

Not when her focus had to remain with Zack.

"The fuck!" Zack hissed, fist closing around the tip of her sword when it swung again. He managed not to flinch when the teeth bit into his palm. "I killed you."

"Yeah," Faith agreed nastily, kicking him again and forcing him against the wall. "That’s the thing about slayers…we don’t go quietly into that good night."

Zack’s head whipped around to Buffy. "Hey!" he shouted. "You don’t get to do that!"

An answering roar from Spike shook the building’s foundation. Faith shrugged and raised the sword. "Oh," she said shortly. "I think he gets to do that."

The vampire’s eyes shimmered. "You fucking bitch," he snarled. "I’m gonna make you wish for death. Think you had it bad? I—"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"

And with that, she dove to the ground, swiping at his legs with her own, and sending him tumbling into the arms of his niece.

His niece, who was smiling much too brightly for a girl of no consequence.

"Uncle Zack!" Rosalie said loudly. "Did you hear the good news?" She landed a punch in his jaw, a punch that sent him soaring through the air and crashing into the far wall. Her eyes flashed and her grin broadened, brows flickering upward as Zack’s startled gaze found her own.

"Yeah," Faith agreed, tossing a quick glance to Spike. Buffy was in his arms, chains linked around her wrists, sawdust and chunks of plaster scattering across the floor. She hadn’t even heard the ceiling crash.

"We’re good," Wright said quickly.

"Move it out," Faith advised, turning her attention back to Zack. "Yeah, I guess you did end up doing us a favor. You know, with killing me."

Zack blinked dumbly, eyes flitting between the two slayers.

"You gave us what we needed to thoroughly kick your ass," Rosalie agreed brightly.

"No fucking way," Zack snarled. "She’s the Slayer?"

"Lucky day for vamps," Faith agreed, landing a kick in his head, just as Rosalie followed to give it an echo. "Two slayers."

"You wanted to prove yourself, here’s your fucking chance," Rosalie spat, backhanding him harshly against the wall.

Neither one of them heard Gunn and Hunter behind them.

Therefore neither of them were prepared for a flood of taser-armed Wolfram and Hart agents.

But Zack was. And he utilized the opportunity to kick them both back and into a different fight.

Buffy was gone. Buffy was gone.

And he wasn’t going to let it be that easy.

Not in a fucking long-shot.

*~*~*

"Gods…bind him…cast his heart from the…evil realm…"

*~*~*

He couldn’t stop running. He couldn’t see where he was going, couldn’t feel anything but the soft, blood-coated, precious package in his arms, iron links shackled still around her wrists. She kept whispering words to him, comforting words, loving words, telling him she’d been certain he would come for her and she was sorry she hadn’t fought harder. That none of what had happened was his fault. That she loved him and she everything would be all right.

Telling him a thousand things. _A thousand things._

"You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?"

The voice was pure ice, stabbing his heart and sending frostbitten shivers through his veins. Logic told him it was over—he had what he’d come for, he had Buffy back, and there was no need to turn around. No need to face the man who had once been his best friend. The man he’d loved as a brother…the man he’d trusted with his life.

Buffy was bleeding. Zack’s scent tainted every inch of her beautiful, broken flesh. He’d raped her, torn into her body and he’d done it because of what she was to Spike, not because of who she was for herself.

Wright stalled, turning around quickly, eyes pleading. "Don’t," he said quickly. "Let’s go."

"He can’t go," Zack retorted snidely. "Not when he knows I know how his precious wife’s pussy tastes. Little bland, if you ask me, but I suppose mediocrity is all one can expect of _William the Bloody_. Wanna know how she screamed, Spike? All you gotta do is turn around."

Buffy’s eyes turned upward. "Spike, don’t…"

He wished he could listen to her. He did…but her blood, her flesh, her scent…

It was all over Zack. And all he wanted to do was rip Zack apart. It was a promise he’d made to himself—a promise to see blood in exchange for blood.

"Get her outta here," Spike said, passing Buffy into Wright’s arms.

"Spike—"

"Spiiiike," Zack echoed. "Someone’s gotta get his ass kicked."

"Spike," Buffy whispered, "please…"

He shook his head and turned around. Not even she could bring him back.

Not when he’d been dreaming of this.

*~*~*

"I call on the keepers of Light. I call on the Rulers of Justice. I call on the Voice of Truth…"

*~*~*

"You really think you can do it?" Zack asked. "You know, no, I know you can’t. None of you can. You keep trying. I’ll grant you that, you do keep trying. What, you and your empty threats and then my brother and Buffy shoving that stake through my throat…" He chuckled and shook his head. "I got my own back, though. Did a little shoving of my own, if you catch my drift."

Rage pumped his veins, but Spike’s expression didn’t change. While he was fueled with fury, he was tempered where he hadn’t been before—perhaps because Buffy was back at his side, away from danger, perhaps because he knew this was the end. He knew for all Zack’s talk and arrogance, there was no way he walked from this. No way he slithered to a quick escape when escape seemed impossible. Spike wouldn’t wait for the sun to take him, and wouldn’t bruise his body as a warning.

Zack had broken Spike’s very reason for living, and he was going to take life in return.

"It’s over," Spike said, his tone deceptively gentle. "You’re done."

Zack spread his arms. "Still standing here."

The elder vampire shook his head. "Not for long."

And then he was a blur in motion, and Zack was all he saw.

*~*~*

_"Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte. Nici mort, nici al fiintei… Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul la el…"_

*~*~*

Spike knew what Zack couldn’t—that which none but Buffy knew. In all the years they’d been friends, allies, colleagues, sire and childe, Spike had never fought him. Never truly fought him. He’d sparred and trained, he’d jested and prodded, and while he’d done his best as a teacher, he’d likewise relied upon the only lesson of value imparted by Angelus. The only thing to which he’d ever listened. The best advice his elder had ever given.

_Never teach your childer how to kill you._

And Spike never had.

It was worth it for the widening of Zack’s eyes—in watching arrogance fade to panic, in watching his childe’s moves become erratic rather than casual and confident. Every swing of Zack’s arms was met with a cool fist. Spike held up an arm and delivered a punch to Zack’s gut; Spike seized Zack’s wrist and backhanded him to the ground. Spike caught Zack’s leg and twisted his ankle until bone cracked and a howl of pain pierced through the cool Los Angeles air.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Spike spat, backhanding him again, kicking Zack to the ground. "You never got it." He straddled Zack’s waist, stone fists denting cracks in the pavement by use of the younger vampire’s head. "I don’t give a fuck anymore. You took away what li’l might’ve saved your life when you touched her."

Zack’s face was a canvass of red. "You don’t wanna kill me!"

"You fucking miserably sod!" Spike roared, taking another punch to his face. He felt a presence behind. _Faith_. Faith, Rosalie, and the others. Good. At least they’d made it out. "The only thing keepin’ this miserable town for paying for your crimes is the pleasure of wringin’ the last breath outta your miserable hide."

"Kelly—"

"Gave me her sodding blessing. You’re beyond worthless. You wanted to see what would happen? I’ll give it to you."

"Want a hand?" Faith asked. And before he could respond, a shimmer tickled the night and the sword was suddenly in his grasp. Spike grinned and rose to his feet, drawing back, but not before kicking Zack’s broken ankle twice before ultimately pressing his foot upon it.

"FUCK!"

A swipe of the sword drew a long line across Zack’s chest, fabric ripping and blood spewing. Spike’s eyes positively glowed.

"I might’ve cared once," he said conversationally. "Might’ve mourned. But the world’ll bloody rejoice your absence. This miserable sham you became. You just wanted to prove you were somethin’, didn’t you? Din’t fuckin’ matter what you were so long as it was something. Never figured you’d be a worse vamp than you were a father, but you manage to surprise. Think you worked out your daddy issues?"

A flash of fury burned Zack’s eyes. "Fuck you!" he sputtered, his mouth full of blood.

Spike shrugged. "Wonder how long Kel will wait till she finds someone to raise your kids," he said, another bloody swipe painting across Zack’s chest. The vampire howled miserably, rolling back and forth on the pavement, holding himself, what little good it did. "‘Course, they always did prefer me, din’t they? ‘Bout time your wife gets someone to give her a good fuck…somethin’ we bloody well know she never got from you."

Zack screamed again, shaking his head.

"You think what you did made a difference…an’ it did." Spike raised the sword again. "I never thought I’d hate you when I killed you. I never thought I’d want it slow. Wonder how long a vamp will live if I chop off his arms an’ legs."

It was something to which he would look forward with sadistic glee.

"Please!" Zack howled. "You don’t wanna do this!"

Spike’s eyes blazed. "The fuck I don’t. Not after the way you begged for it for what you did to her."

The sword raised high. He wanted to see Zack’s head roll before his body disintegrated.

*~*~*

_"Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie! Acum! Acum!"_

The Orb of Thesulah shone, and Willow fell back.

*~*~*

He resented it.

The glow in Zack’s eyes couldn’t be denied. He knew what it meant—he knew exactly what it meant. He’d been there too many times to doubt it. To wonder about the light or the way Zack’s pained gasps faded into hard, heavy pants of confusion. His face was still contorted in agony, but the fury had faded. He still bled, but his hands no longer knew what to do with themselves. He lay there, pathetic, and blinked blearily at the city lights above him. At the building to his side. At the sword pointed at his chest.

He blinked until his eyes found Spike, narrowed in bewilderment before the horrible truth seeped in.

Spike had never seen this. He’d never waited around long enough to taste the cries of despair. The understanding—the knowledge that the images flashing across his mind weren’t scenes from nightmares, rather the sad truth of his reality. The fog of the past few weeks refused to give him solace. And he knew. He understood.

He didn’t want Zack to cry. He wanted him to bleed. He wanted him to suffer.

He wanted him to feel his body fall apart before his dust kissed the sky.

He wanted Zack to suffer.

Suffer.

"Kill me," Zack pleaded, sobbing hard. Sobbing with pain beyond whatever Spike could give him. Pain beyond pain.

And he wanted to. Oh, Christ, how Spike wanted to kill him.

But that was the bitch. Death would only make it end.

And Zack didn’t deserve it to end.

"Kill me!" the pitiful vampire screamed. "What are you waiting for?! _Kill me!"_

God, he wanted to so fucking badly.

But he wouldn’t. Death was gracious. Death was forgiving.

Death saved him from suffering.

"No," Spike ground it, forcing the sword down, shaking his head. "No."

It was no longer possible to see Zack’s face through the bloodied tears. "Kill me," he begged. _"God, Spike, kill me."_

Spike shook his head, breathing hard. "Killing you would be an act of mercy," he said thickly, tossing the sword back to Faith, whose expression was somber and understanding. "For you, I have none."

And then he turned around. Turned to the face of Wright, who held Buffy to his chest. To Rosalie, Gunn, the new bloke, and Faith. He walked away from Zack’s sobs and cries of protest. Walked way, and didn’t feel at peace until Buffy was again in his arms, her own tears dampening his shirt.

"It’s over," he whispered into her hair. "It’s over."

From behind him, Zack’s sobs only escalated. He cried and called. He whimpered and begged for death.

But they didn’t listen. None of then.

They just turned their backs and walked away.


	32. Chapter 32

The Hyperion was silent as soon as the final spell was cast. There was no more work except wait and hope for the best. Anxiety kept many awake, but exhaustion over came some as the end finally approached.

Sam had fallen asleep in one of the cushioned chairs shortly after Willow’s spell was performed. The witch found it so sweet she conjured a warm blanket to cover him up. Rosie wouldn’t leave the main room, but had also been succumb to unconsciousness. With her head lying in Donna’s lap, the child had been soothed to sleep by a gentle stroking of her hair. As Donna continued to caress the child with one hand, the other remained locked in Josh’s, who not asleep rested his head on his lover’s shoulder looking down at the tragedy-struck little girl. 

Melody and Giles had taken Lisa and William upstairs to let them sleep. After that, they paced around with matching coffee cups. Cordelia watched the scene from one of the remained cushioned chairs. Immediately after Zack had left, she decided she could not remained locked up in seclusion while the outside world dealt with the situation and quietly rejoined her friends.

Kelly anxiously paced. Occasionally after walking the entire inside perimeter of the Hyperion, she would venture out to make sure all the entrances of the converted hotel were free and clear of danger. Her ears seemed trained on her children every second as she would cue Melody to check on William every time he would wake up from another nightmare. The vampire’s eyes kept focused on the outside world, waiting for answers to her two deepest fears: is Buffy alive and was Zack able to be saved?

She never would ask Spike to save her husband. She had asked so much of the platinum vampire when she asked him to turn her husband that night so many years ago. And while her logic and reason told her that even if Zack could be resouled, he would never be her husband again. He was forever changed by the actions he had performed and the lives he had destroyed. She wasn’t even sure if she could forgive him for what he had done. But that didn’t stop the secret part of her soul from wishing that he could come back to them. That he could be saved from the carnage Wolfram and Hart had created. That all the wounds and hurt could be mended and she and Zack could fulfill their dreams, watching their children grow up and eventually mating and spending the rest of eternity together.

Now she would eventually be alone. Her children would grow up and live their lives like mortals do. Some distant point in the future she would bury her last child and her maternal duties would end. She could stalk her great-great-grandchildren but that wouldn’t last forever. Buffy and Spike would remain in her lives but they were a mated couple and needed ample time alone together. That meant that she was alone. With no other souled vampires in existence—Angel would never be an option—meant that there was nobody left for her. She was truly alone.

And though she was terrified about her future she was more worried about the present. She wanted to see Buffy alive and well and the rest of her new friends and family safe again inside the confines of the Hyperion’s protection. So she paced.

And they all waited.

*~*~*

Every second brought forth a new memory and a new degree of horror. He had already searched the ground near his bleeding and broken body for anything with which to impale his newly-souled heart. Remembering what he had done to those closest to him as well as those who he never had a chance to really know left him able to do nothing but take gasping breaths as the tears fell down like rain.

Spike was right; he didn’t deserve the privilege of death. He deserved more than the torture of forever living with the memories of the lives he had ruined and the souls he had mutilated. But he wasn’t strong enough to carry out that sentence. His mind could only comprehend the idea that he never wanted to face those he had hurt again, and he was certain they never wanted to face him.

Yes, death would be the easiest end to the problem. And he was the problem.

Zack knew she was approaching, but was so broken he couldn’t move. "Just…go," he gasped.

"Oh," Darla said sarcastically. "Okay. If you insist." With that she bent down and picked up his battered body with a distinct lack of gentleness.

"No," he growled.

The blonde vampire rolled her eyes as she ignored him. "The WH cronies will be out at any second to snatch you back and that really isn’t the most humorous option." She waited for a response, but found that a souled Zack was far less entertaining. "You were fun and the sex was pretty decent. Gotta admit you work it better than most, but it’s not enough."

"Just kill me."

She laughed. "Don’t you get it? It’s way more fun watching you guys kill each other." She sighed. "You had a lot of potential, but there’s just too much Spike in you. He would never go for it and I don’t care enough to fight."

They were somewhere dark before Zack could realize. Somewhere cold, dark and empty. And then he was tossed to the ground. "I doubt they’ll find you here and I doubt you’ll find much to kill yourself with." Zack was silent much to her chagrin. "If I get bored later I might bring you something to eat, but in the meantime I doubt those broken bones will allow you much chance to move." And with that, she turned into the darkness and was gone.

And Zack was left alone to begin the most painful part of his torture.

*~*~*

The operative came in to give her the latest report. "The Slayer?"

"Gone."

"And Zack Morris."

"Reports say that he was resouled shortly after the Slayer was taken."

"Where is he?" Lilah said, slightly more emotional than she had intended.

"Just as our Recovery Unit was dispatched, a vampire identified as Darla was seen taking his body away. He’s alive, but we did not track him."

"No," Lilah said darkly. "He is no longer needed. Inform the Partners and then wait for further instructions."

"Yes, Ms. Morgan." As the man left, he gently shut her door.

Anger and disappointment consumed her as she walked to her skyline window. She gazed down and pondered about the whereabouts of the vampire.

*~*~*

The front door burst open with a wave of chaotic energy. The warriors tromped in with many conversations taking place at once. Immediately everyone in the Hyperion rushed forward to take inventory of who had come back from the final battle.

"Thank God," Giles cried as he spotted Buffy wearing Spike’s duster and cradled in her husband’s arms. He stopped the pair at the base of the stairs so he could look in his surrogate daughter’s eyes and gently kiss her forehead. He gave a shaky nod to his almost-son-in-law before walking off to find his composure.

Kelly was next. She quickly accounted for every member of the team and Buffy and rushed to Spike and her sire. She looked down to the bruised and battered vampire slayer and gave her a tender kiss full on the mouth. They shared a brief emotional gaze before she looked up into Spike’s heavy gaze. She kissed him on the cheek before moving to the side and letting them go upstairs and giving them the chance to start healing some of the many wounds that had taken place since they had landed here in Los Angeles. 

Meanwhile, Cordelia had immediately sought out her lover and daughter. Her eyes were brimming with tears as Wright dropped his weapons and rushed into her arms. "I’m never letting you out of my sight again," she said with a strangled sob, holding him tighter than he could ever remember. "Never!"

"I love you so fucking much," he whispered as he buried himself in the crook of her neck.

Rosalie looked on at her parents with a smile until Hunter walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around and gave him a glare. "What?"

His eyes went wide. "The guard hasn’t come down yet, I see."

"You didn’t think I could do it, but I did pretty damn good tonight you have to admit."

"I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said I didn’t think it was the best idea. Under these circumstances I will say it worked out well and I was wrong, but if even one part of the scenario had been different this could have been disastrous."

"You are such an asshole," Rosalie spat. She looked to Faith who had just approached. "Can you believe him? He really thinks he still needs to be my sensei after tonight."

"You kicked ass, but don’t get a big head, yet," Faith warned. "You’ve got all the makings to be the best of the best, but time is a factor in this gig, kiddo."

"What?"

Faith liked the kid. So she tried to make it gentle to her rapidly expanding ego. "You got some new powers and duties and shit that you’re gonna need some help with. Doesn’t make you weak. I kinda wish I had listened closer once or twice."

"Really?" Hunter and Rosalie asked in skeptical unison.

"I said once or twice."

"Why don’t you train me, then? Nancy Nicky can just head back home."

Hunter’s eyes filled with fire as he turned to the elder slayer. "I can’t fucking believe you told her the sodding ‘Nancy Nicky,’ story!"

Faith gave a saucy smirk. "Get over it, baby. You’ll be lucky if that’s the worst I tell her." Then she turned back to her protégée. "Don’t worry, I’ll stick around a while and help you master some of the moves. You’ve got skills, but slayers are built with different capabilities. Nicky can give you the technicals."

Hunter growled. "I swear to bloody God—"

"But," Faith continued with an eye roll. "He’s really not that bad to have around. He takes his shit seriously. He’s a walking demonic Wikipedia and he can carry a stake pretty decent for a dude who has such embarrassing nicknames."

"Buggeration!"

"Are you saying this because you think I need a watcher or because you two screw each other every time you’re out together?"

"Bloody hell," Hunter sighed as he looked to the dark-haired woman. "What else have you told her?"

Faith merely winked at him before turning back to the young woman. "Trust me, I don’t like most of the guys I hook up with. Takes out the fun that way. I’m just saying they sent you the best they’ve got and I think he might have a use or two aside from taking advantage of his constant erection."

"You really have no idea how much I loathe you at this moment."

"That’s what I’m going for, Nicky."

Rosalie’s eyes went wide. "Oh, gross!" With that she turned and walked away.

Before Hunter could reply, there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see a smiling Wright standing there with his other hand wrapped around Cordelia’s waist. "Hey," Wright chirped.

"Hey," Hunter said low and cautious.

"So you’ve slept with Faith?"

"Pardon?"

"Way more than I ever have, it seems."

"What the fuck?" the young watcher stammered.

"That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t trade for another go," Faith through in with a wink.

"I’m just saying….you want a drink?"

Hunter was speechless. "You…uhhh…if you’re wanting to swap stories then I apologize, but I’m not that kinda man."

"Me neither," Wright said clearly. "I’m just thinking, if your libido is covered by Faith here, then you will have no reason to have any sexual feeling toward my very underage and very off-limits daughter."

Hunter’s eyes went wide. His gaze instinctively went across the room where Rosalie was engaged in a conversation with Gunn and Lorne. "N-No."

"Good." With that he turned to his lover. "You ready to head to bed?"

"Yes," she sighed.

As they made their way to the base of the staircase, Kelly quietly came over just after Melody began walking Rosie up to the bedroom she shared with her little brother and mother. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Her voice was shaky and hesitant.

"Sure," Wright nodded as he kept his grip on Cordy.

They walked off to the side as others began to head upstairs. "So," Kelly awkwardly began when they were out of earshot.

"Yeah…"

"What happened?"

"To Zack?"

"I want to be able to tell my children someday what happened to their father. They already know a lot, but someday they’ll want to know it all." She sighed. "And I need to know it, too."

"Well," Wright said as he shifted his feet. "Umm…there was a fight. Spike pretty much broke him."

"Did he—"

"No," Wright said looking his new sister-in-law in the eye. "The spell the witch did worked."

Kelly and Cordelia blinked in confusion. "You mean he didn’t—" Cordelia asked.

"No," Wright said with a firm headshake. "Zack began to remember and…." His voice trailed. "Letting him live is a worse fate than death at this point."

Kelly knew exactly what he meant. Zack would rather die than remember the terribly atrocities he had committed against those closest to him. While the punishment Spike dealt was just, she felt that death would have been an easier fate for her to digest. She could begin to mourn and make her peace. Now she was left with the knowledge she would see him again. And she would have to work to find a piece of her that could look at her husband and forgive the man that had hurt her so deeply. Because while Zack’s soul was gone, the rest of him—his mind and body—had been Zack and had been capable of doing such horrific acts.

"So where is he?" Cordy asked.

Wright shrugged. "We left him there."

"At Wolfram and Hart?" He nodded. "So they could easily go outside, scoop him up and start this soulless stuff all over again?" Cordelia looked pissed.

"Well…" Wright started. "Fuck." He sighed. "I’ll send Lorne out to do a search for him. Hopefully they got tired of the game and….shit."

"This is why you should have brought me along." Cordelia said with a smirk.

Zack rolled his eyes. "My bad. We should have totally brought my hugely pregnant wife along." He paused. He had said the W word again without thinking.

"Well, thank you," Kelly said before leaning over to give both a tender kiss on the cheek. "And I’m sorry, Zack, about the harsh things I said earlier."

"Don’t mention it." He really was struck about how calm and collected this goddess of a woman was in the face of unspeakable tragedy. As she made her way upstairs to her children, he just hoped that he could be half the father to his newest one as she was a mother to hers.

"Ready for bed, baby?"

"Yeah," Cordelia said with a tired smile. As they made the slow trek up the staircase, she couldn’t resist. "You know…you keep calling me your wife, but there’s something kinda missing to that scenario."

*~*~*

"Momma!" Two little souls cried the moment that Kelly entered the room. It looked as though Melody had put both in their jammies and tucked them in, but Rosie had awoken up her baby brother in anticipation of being with their mommy once again.

She scooped both up into her arms and collapsed on the edge of the bed. "It’s past bedtime for both of you."

"Is Daddy gonna come home now?" Rosie asked.

"What do you mean?"

"He’s back. I know."

"You do?" She could never determine whether Rosie’s knowledge was due to her intuition of the visions she had been blessed with.

"I Saw it," the girl clarified. "He’s really sorry."

"Well," she took a steadying breath and blinked back her tears. "Let’s get some sleep and see what happens in the morning."

Kelly would never know how that solution seemed to work. Her children put up no fight as the crawled into bed with their mother. Pure exhaustion was at work as both kids were asleep within minutes after the lights went out. Kelly waited until she was sure they were both completely unconscious before she slipped into the bathroom adjourning the bedroom. She was quiet as she turned on the shower and slipped out of her clothes. It wasn’t until she was under the spray and able to sink to the bottom of the porcelain tub that she allowed her defenses to dissolve. She wept until she fell asleep under the water washing over her, not caring when it went icy cold. She was desperate for anything to hide her fears and erase the past few days from her aching heart.

*~*~*

"Was that the president?" Donna asked as she stepped into the bedroom from the shower.

"Yeah," Josh confirmed as he placed his cell on the nightstand. He had already showered and was lying underneath the crisp, cool sheets.

"What did he say?" Donna let the towel fall as she slipped into bed beside her boyfriend.

"Well apparently the Joint Chiefs and the NSA had already been alerted to the situation and informed the president that I had left due to a matter of national security."

"And everything was okay?"

"Yeah. Tom stepped up and was able to keep the president’s agenda online. They were even able to work on the language for the G Twenty summit."

"That’s great!" she said as she leaned over to snuggle against him.

"Not really," Josh grumbled as he put an arm around his best friend and brought her closer.

"Why?"

"Because I left the West Wing for over forty-eight hours and the federal government was able to survive."

"For most people that would be a good thing, but for Joshua Lyman there is a plethora of disappointment in the reality that the Western hemisphere doesn’t function solely on the wisdom and intellect of you."

"There is a little bit," he pouted.

"I love you."

"I think we should go ahead and get married."

Donna sat up to look him in the eye. "We haven’t even been open about our dating."

"That would probably come out when we send people the wedding announcements."

"I thought we had decided that we would wait until after the Santos administration."

"You didn’t like that plan and now I realize it was a terrible idea. I think this mini-vacation has proven that we may not have much time left. I can’t remember how many monsters tried to kill us, besides the evil witch who also dubs as one of our friends."

"But what about all the problems at the White House you always list whenever we talk about this?"

"If they can survive forty-eight hours without me I think I can take off enough time to get married."

"But won’t it jeopardize our professionalism?"

"We’ve been sleeping together for years and nobody has had questions about our professionalism."

"No more than usual, at least."

"So…"

"You mean that was your proposal?" Donna scoffed.

"Did you want me to get down on my knee or something?"

"I just thought that you could do something slightly more romantic."

"Like what?"

"Right now a trip to Chucky Cheese would be a step up."

"So I have to propose all…officially?"

"With a ring."

"Okay."

"And romantic."

"Fine."

Both were quiet for several seconds before Donna added, "Oh, and you have to surprise me."

"Hey, would you just like to propose to me? That would make this thing go a whole lot quicker."

"That would totally defeat the purpose."

"The purpose is to get married, so I think we would fulfill the purpose either way."

"I want romance, surprise and a ring."

"Is that all? No fireworks or skywriting?"

"We’ll talk about the wedding later."

*~*~*

His shirt was off and he was reaching for his zipper when the door opened without warning. She walked in, shut the door and went straight to his bed. "No," he said defiantly.

"Gimme one good reason why not."

"I haven’t had a decent night of sleep in nearly a week. After taking a red-eye here I’ve been stalking a teenager who has had the impeccable ability to get my arse kicked twice now. The last time landed me unconscious in a pile of rubbish. When I crawled here, you kicked my broken arse and then I was thrown in a cage where the same teenager decided to get hormonal and throw a bucket of sodding water on me. Then, once I get a decent shower, Wolfram and Hart burst in."

"Kinky."

"Not funny," he growled. "Now you’ve managed to make things worse with Rosalie by telling her the Nancy Nicky story and telling her that we’ve unabashedly fucked every time the Council sent us out on assignment."

"Well, I died so I kick your pity party’s ass."

"You said I had a limp dick."

She shrugged. "Sometimes you do. You can’t have an erection forever. The Viagra commercials tell you that, Nicky."

"Why don’t you go out and find yourself a decent bloke to shag?"

"Because you’re here and I’ve already taught you how to reach my G-spot." With that, she sat up on the bed and removed her top and tossed it aside. "What do you want from me, Nick?"

"For starters, no more limp dick comments."

She rolled her eyes as she unhooked her bra. "You’re such a pussy."

"In fact. No negative comments about my sexual performance period."

"What if they’re true?"

"Only if they’re true."

"Well, if all we did was anal then I wouldn’t be in here."

"It was one time."

"And you popped like a virgin."

"And stop with the bloody Nancy Nicky."

"Not a fucking chance."

"Faith," he growled.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"C’mon over here and prove it to me why I shouldn’t call you names." She slipped off her sweats and panties, spreading her legs wide. "Nancy Nicky."

He sighed, deciding he had lost the battle. Removing his pants he mused. "I’ve never shagged a dead girl before."

"Be gentle," she said with a façade of innocence. "I’m still fragile."

"Yeah right."

He had the slightly dangerous fire in his eyes that Faith had grown to appreciate as he smirked and crawled between her thighs. "Show me what you got…Nicky."

*~*~*

He remembered the last time they’d been here, only when he brought her into their room, she’d been dead. He’d drawn her a bath, scrubbed her dirty, bloodied body clean, and placed her under the blankets to ensure she wasn’t cold when she awoke. The first time was always cold. After knowing nothing but warmth, the transition from a living body to a dead one was one of the most startling things about opening one’s eyes. For Spike, and many other vampires, it fell just under the dark claustrophobia of realizing they were dead and buried, and no one would hear them if they screamed. 

Buffy wasn’t dead or unconscious. She was awake, and even with everything they’d shared, it made Spike even more aware of his every move. 

"Warm or lukewarm?" 

"Warm," she replied softly, flashing him a tired, grateful smile as he perched over the brass tub, drawing her bathwater. He had such fond memories of this tub. The morning after they first made love, they’d spent a good part of the day playing in the water. He didn’t want anything to banish those images, but Zack’s stench permeated every inch of her body, and he couldn’t look at her without seeing cuts or gashes, without smelling where she bled. He’d allowed it to happen. Despite reason and logic, despite whatever she might tell him, he knew he could have stopped it. He could have…if he’d had the stones to end Zangy’s life when he first learned his friend was gone. That night so long ago…Zack had strolled in and strangled his son…Spike could’ve done it then. He could have. 

And so much would have been different. So much pain spared for the pain they’d invited by not killing the one bloke who didn’t deserve to live. 

God, he hated himself so richly. 

"Don’t." 

Spike looked up, sighing as he twisted the nozzle and cut off the water. "Nice an’ warm. What’s that, pet?" 

"That look," Buffy replied, wincing as she pushed herself to her feet, dropping the robe Spike had wrapped around her and padding across the flowered mat. "That ‘this is all my fault’ look. You don’t get to guilt yourself about this." 

He sighed again. "Buffy…" 

She worried a lip between her teeth, steadying herself on his shoulders. "Help me," she implored softly, and he immediately rose to his feet and scooped her into his arms. 

"This helping?" he asked. 

"I’m not invalid." 

"I know, love. I do." Spike shuddered and tenderly lowered her into the water, doing his best to keep from reacting when she hissed the second the water rushed over her wounds. There wasn’t an inch of her not covered. Her breasts were scattered with angry bite marks, her arms and abdomen knobbed with swollen, purple bruises. Her sex…he didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to touch her, didn’t want to push her, didn’t want her to think he needed anything but to be with her. He would never ask her for anything again. "I just…"

Buffy’s eyes softened, her hand going to his cheek. "I know." 

"You were gone." 

"It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault." 

Red floated to the water’s surface. Spike shuddered and reached for a wash cloth, dipping it into the tub. "I could’ve stopped him before…" 

"I could have, too," Buffy said gently, gasping harshly when the terrycloth worried over her breasts. "I could’ve killed him. So could Wright. Or Faith. Or Kelly. Or any one of us. We just…we didn’t. And it was no one’s fault but his." 

Spike shook his head, sniffing hard. "He…Buffy…" 

Buffy nodded quickly before he could say the word. "Yeah," she said. "And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault." She shivered and glanced down. "I was so worried for you." 

"Worried for me?" 

"I knew…if it was me, if it was you…what I would’ve done. I felt you slipping…I thought you’d go completely berserk." 

He laughed harshly. "Well, I did." 

"You kept in your head."

"Hardly. Kelly had to kick my arse once or twice to get me to keep from going on a bloody suicide mission." 

Buffy smiled a half smile. "Kelly’s a spitfire." 

"I’ll say. She moves like you." 

"Like the best." 

Spike grinned weakly and nodded. Then there was nothing else to say. Nothing but what had nearly killed him over the past few days—the knowledge of what would have rendered him useless had he not gotten her back. Had he never seen her…Christ… "I love you," he whispered. 

"I know you do," Buffy replied, taking the washcloth from his hand and pushing it below the surface. He inhaled sharply and looked away. He knew where she was going with it, but he couldn’t watch. Not with what he knew had occurred. "I love you, too," she said. "It was what kept me from…I knew you would get to me, Spike. I knew you would get me out. And it was what kept me from falling apart. I had to be strong for you. I had to…I couldn’t let him see me cry. And I didn’t. I didn’t cry in front of him. I was strong." 

"Bloody strong," he agreed hoarsely. "But you don’t have to be strong with me." 

She was quiet for a long beat. "You didn’t kill him." 

His expression hardened. "He didn’t deserve it. It didn’t deserve the quiet. Not after what he’s done." He was still for a minute. "After what he’s done, he deserves the screams." 

There was nothing for a long minute. Buffy nodded, the soft kindness with which he was so accustomed melting into steely hardness. And for the first time, he felt her rage. Her anger. Her pain. He felt it—felt what she had kept from him to keep him sane, what she had suppressed to keep reality at the door. "Yes," she agreed harshly. "Yes, he does." 

Her eyes met his and the façade cracked. His heart broke with her. And when she shattered, he was there to catch her, leaning over the tub and pulling her into his shoulder. 

"I was so scared," she gasped, hard, raucous sobs ripping through her chest. "Oh God, Spike, I was so scared. It was dark, and he…I didn’t know…I knew you were coming, but…" 

"It’s all right," he whispered, though he knew it wasn’t. He rocked her best he could, perching on the tub’s edge. "I got you. Spike’s got you." 

"I was so afraid I’d never see you again." 

He smiled brokenly into her hair. "I’m here." 

It was all he could do, all he could offer. Right now when she needed naught but quiet and a loving shoulder, it was what he would be. 

She didn’t need anything else tonight. 

*~*~*

The last thing she wanted to do was confront Spike on the night he and Buffy were beginning the healing process, but after three hours, Kelly knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she spoke with him. It wasn’t a question of understanding why he hadn’t killed Zack—she didn’t need anyone to clarify that for her. Spike’s need for vengeance ran deeper than paying blood for blood. He wanted Zack to suffer, and allowing him to live was the greatest punishment of all. 

For herself, Kelly was caught in a vortex of emotion, none of which she understood. A part of her screamed for Zack to pay, the larger part ached for his arms, as he was the only person who could banish the agony of the last few weeks away. He was the one to whom she wanted to run…and yet even if he lived out there, existed out there, he wasn’t her husband. Her husband had kissed her goodbye, told her he loved her, and hadn’t come back. The man living now was burdened with memories of things his hands had done, crimes his body had committed…things so horrible a lifetime wouldn’t make up for it. She was elated and crushed, overjoyed and devastated. The closure for which she’d longed, the closure she’d thought imminent, was now unattainable. Somewhere, the shell of the man she’d loved her whole life was crippled and breaking, afflicted with bloodied visions that wouldn’t allow him rest. 

Spike might have made his decision to punish Zack, but in doing so, he’d inadvertently punished her as well. 

He’d denied her sleep, and she needed to talk with him. 

Even if she already had the why. 

Apparently, Kelly wasn’t the only one who needed to see Spike. She ran into Wright in the hall outside her elders’ bedroom; it confused her until a rich, tantalizing scent hit her nostrils, making her fangs tingle and her stomach rumble. 

"It’s human," she observed, eyes dropping to the bags of blood in Wright’s hands. 

"It’s Faith’s," he countered gravely. 

"Faith’s?" 

He nodded. "I took a smoke break at the hospital." 

"You don’t smoke." 

"Yeah, well, Dr. Dorian didn’t know that. I figured with Mr. Unpredictable on the loose, it wouldn’t hurt to have some slayer blood in stock in case…well…" He shifted uneasily. "Well…I didn’t know she was gone when I took it." 

Kelly sighed and nodded. "You did the right thing," she said. 

"Yeah," he agreed, and while she could tell he meant it, there was definitely a lingering part of him that remained unconvinced. "What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be getting some much-deserved shut-eye?" 

"Shouldn’t you?" she countered. 

Wright shrugged. "I don’t need much sleep," he replied. "Which is a good thing, since my room’s next to Hunter’s. He and Faith have been fucking like wild dogs for about three hours now." He shook his head. "I’d forgotten how loud she is." 

"Hunter lasts three hours?" Kelly said, not bothering to mask her surprise. "Wouldn’t know it for looking at him." 

"As long as he’s sticking it to Faith and not…anyone else…I’m a happy guy." Wright waited a beat and sighed, casting his eyes downward. "How about it, Kel?" 

There was no avoiding the question this time. She exhaled deeply, worrying a lip between her teeth. "I have to know, Zack," she said softly. "I mean…I know…but he wanted him dead so much." 

"Why do I get the feeling you’re not a hundred percent happy with the outcome?" 

"I was ready. Don’t misunderstand me…I love Zack with everything I am. But I was ready…I’d…I was ready for him to be dead." She looked down. "I wasn’t ready for this." 

There was a beat. "No one ever is," Wright replied. "People say they understand and all that righteous shit, but they don’t. I might never have lost someone to the Dark Side, Kel, but I did lose Amber. And my son. I lost them both and it…" He tore his eyes away, shaking his head and shuddering with emotion he likely thought had been buried long ago. When he looked back at her, there was something else in his gaze. Something she couldn’t identify, but related with all the same. "If I could’ve done what Spike did to Zack, I would have. To her. To Darla. Pain isn’t enough. Death isn’t enough. You can torture a man as long as you like, but there is no quiet. They don’t know how you feel unless you make them. If I could’ve made Darla…yeah, I would have. It might not have worked, but I’d’ve done it anyway. Spike…I saw him before. When Angelus and friends had Buffy all chained up…he wasn’t like he was this time. He loved her, yeah, but this time he…he more than loves her. And he loves you and your squirts and me and Cordy and my squirt and everyone here, fuck if he admits it or not. He might have done what he did to Zack because of what was done to Buffy, but not for it. We all kinda needed him to feel it. We need him to know he killed Fred and Nikki, and what he did to…what he did to my daughter, and to your kids, and to Buffy, and to Faith, and everything. He needs to feel that because we do. There’s no reason he should get an out if we can’t, right?" 

Kelly didn’t even realize she was crying until Wright reached into his back pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. She laughed when he presented it before promptly snatching it up and blowing her nose. "Thank you." 

He smiled. "You’re welcome." 

"It’s just I was ready. And Spike…he said he would kill him. I knew I’d never see Zack again the second you left. And now…" 

"Spike said he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t." 

"I just don’t see how it became his decision." 

Wright was quiet for a second. "It wasn’t," he said. "Not really." 

Kelly frowned. "But—" 

"So Spike didn’t kill him. So what? I could have. Rosalie could have. Faith could have. Gunn could have. Even the new boy…we were all there, Kelly. Spike walked away but he didn’t say anything about the rest of us. Zack might be your husband, but he’s my brother, and he’s Spike’s vamp-kid or whatever, and he’s Rosalie’s uncle, and he hurt all of us." Wright shrugged. "You can’t tell me for what he did to you and your kids you don’t want him hurting. He nearly crushed your little boy. If I were you, I’d want him to feel every second of it." He looked down and grew quiet again. "I’ll give this to you," he said after a second, placing the bag of blood in Kelly’s free hand. "You can pass it on to Spike." 

And that was all he said. Without preamble, Wright turned on his heels and began walking down the corridor. Kelly just stared at the bag for a long beat before it clicked that he was leaving. "Where are you going?" she asked. 

He paused. "Think I’m tired after all." 

*~*~* 

They lay on their backs side-by-side, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. 

"Damn," Faith breathed. 

"Something to that effect, yes," Hunter agreed, panting. 

"What was that? Four or five?" 

"Seven." 

She blinked in surprise, craning her neck to face him. "Seven? You’re shitting me." 

He grinned a grin he didn’t wear very often; one she thought looked good on him. Hunter might be a lot of things, but smoking hot was the one that got overlooked most often. Good thing she wasn’t the type to fall for nice guys, else he might find himself tied down. As it was, theirs was a relationship without strings or complications, just as she liked them, and as long as he was single and willing, she’d take his joystick for a spin. 

Faith was perhaps the one girl on the planet who could truly compartmentalize sex and emotion. Once sex ended, friendship remained. She’d never had sex that involved any emotion higher than the drive for pleasure, and God-willing she never would. Emotion just complicated things, and she wasn’t looking for complications. 

She was looking for a guy she could steer. Thankfully, Hunter fit the bill. 

"Guess I’m not so limp-dicked after all," he practically purred.

"No, and we’re not done, either." 

The sultry vanished and the incredulous set in. "What?" 

Faith shrugged. "Still feel the burn, baby. Get ready." 

"Oh good Lord…" 

"You’ll be saying that." 

"Are you trying to break it off?" 

"Of course not," she replied, rolling onto his chest and throwing her legs over his hips. A hand snaked between them, taking his semi-flaccid cock into grip and giving it a good tug until he was how she wanted him. "There’s no fun in that." 

"Somehow I think you’d manage." 

"Nicky?" 

"Don’t call me that." 

Faith grinned, rolling her hips over him. "Why," she mused, sinking down on him, "don’t you make me?" 

Hunter sighed, thrusting eagerly into her. "Now there’s an argument I can get behind," he said, before taking her by surprise and flipping her under him. "This time, you take it." 

"Rawr," she drawled. "Give it to me good." 

"Oh, it’ll be good." 

"Always fucking is." 


	33. Chapter 33

There was a knock. 

Buffy fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow, her eyes still puffy, her face a red tangle of tears. Spike didn’t want to leave her long. It had taken months for her nightmares of Angel’s torture to quietly fade, and even then, she’d still awaken in the middle of the night, even after their memories were altered, talking of things he hadn’t understood. 

She was so strong. 

Spike sighed, moving toward the door. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Kelly on the other side. "She’s asleep," he said by way of greeting. 

Kelly nodded and licked her lips. "Good," she replied. "Here, um, Zack—I mean—" 

"Wright," Spike supplied softly. _Zack_ was a name he didn’t want to hear anymore. 

"Yeah. He gave me this to give Buffy." She shoved a bag full of rich-scented blood in Spike’s hand, and while he knew what it was without needing to be told, it nearly rocked him off his feet. 

"This—" 

"Faith’s." 

"Faith donated?" 

"When she was forced, yeah," Kelly replied. "He thinks slayer blood would…help." 

Spike nodded. "Yeah," he said. "It will. Works four times as fast as…" He glanced up, gratitude strewn across his face. "Thank you." 

Kelly smiled awkwardly. "Don’t thank me," she said. "I’m just the delivery girl." 

"I’ll put it on ice for tonight. Don’t wanna wake her up for this." He smiled thankfully. "Thanks, pidge." 

She nodded her agreement, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. And just as he was about the close the door, she couldn’t contain herself. "Spike?" 

He paused and looked at her. 

"I just…with what happened earlier…" 

His expression didn’t change even as his shoulders tensed. Kelly licked her lips. 

"You did…he deserves what you did," she said. "For what he did to her, and my children. He deserves it." A beat. "Thank you." 

Spike looked at her a minute longer, as though trying to detect a lie. When he didn’t find one, a soft smile tickled his lips, and he nodded his thanks. "Good night, Kelly," he said, retreating inward and leaving her alone in the hallway. 

*~*~*

She stared at the door for a long time. Longer than she realized. And when she finally sighed and turned to head back to her room, her eyes caught with Wright’s. He wasn’t waiting, just watching, and there was gratitude in his gaze.

They shared a long, silent look in which many things were said. And without a word, Kelly turned at last to make the journey back to her children. 

At last, she felt she could sleep. 

*~*~* 

"I bloody well hope you’re tired," Hunter moaned, rolling onto his side and wincing when his cock slipped from her body. "I don’t think I have anything left." 

Faith wasn’t about to admit it, but another round might send her into early retirement. _Mmm, but what a way to go._ "Get some rest," she replied evasively. "Mama will want more when she wakes up." 

"You know I have to train my slayer at some point." 

"You really should leave that to me." 

"My slayer, Faith." 

Faith tossed a coy glance over her shoulder. "Yeah, big boy. I got it. Your slayer." She purred and stretched. "She know that yet?" 

"What?" 

"Rosalie. She’s a cute kid. A little big-headed, but—" 

Hunter had to laugh at that. "You’re one to talk." 

"I got a reason to be. Ain’t dead." 

"Now," he agreed. "Thanks to modern technology." 

"Yeah, well, I learn from my mistakes." 

He laughed again. "Since when?" 

"You wanna shut up or you want me to shut you up?" 

"I’ll be quiet." 

"Mhmm," Faith drawled. "Thought so." A pause. "So…does the kid know she’s yours?" 

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" 

"Oh, come on, Nick. I might not got smarts, but I know how to read people. And you wanna rub yourself all over Little Miss Statutory. Think you can handle it? When she’s in the full fight, drippin’ with sweat? Her young, nubile body bending and contortin’ in ways men only dream about, virgin pussy peekin’ during those high kicks. She—" 

Hunter growled and pounced, jerking Faith by the shoulder and rolling her under him, erection pushing through her vaginal folds and locking himself within her body. He began thrusting without awaiting permission—not that permission was needed. Faith just grinned and nipped at his lips, digging her nails into his shoulders. 

"Got you hot." 

"Shut up," he snarled, burying his face in her throat, rocking her hard against the mattress. "Just shut up." 

And for once, she wasn’t one to argue. 

*~*~* 

Lilah Morgan was not in a good mood. 

This wasn’t something particularly revolutionary. At Wolfram and Hart, good moods only came after successful sacrificial rituals or upon news that the priest accused of raping altar boys had been cleared of all charges. Even then, the moods could hardly be called good. They were smug, celebratory, and brief. Cases were won, children were offered to the Partners, and the inner workings of Wolfram and Hart continued like clockwork. Good moods were hard to come by—bad moods were not. 

Lilah Morgan was in a mood to beat all others, something Derek Morris didn’t know the second he stepped into her office. 

"Close the door," she said briskly without looking up from the series of contracts she was reviewing for the Family Law department. 

"What’s wrong?" Derek asked meekly. 

"Close the door." 

Derek swallowed hard and obeyed. "I heard something went wrong with acquiring Cordelia." 

"Yes, in that you failed to acquire Cordelia." 

"I thought—" 

"You thought?" Lilah replied, blinking in surprise. "Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a man of many surprises." 

"I resent that." 

"I don’t care." Sighing, Lilah placed down her pen and rose solemnly to her feet. "Your debt is unpaid. Your son is again with a conscience. Your time is up." 

The color drained from Derek’s face. "Zack has a soul again?" 

"Yes. The witch—" 

"You said she was out of the picture!" 

"No, I said we would be able to slow her down, not eliminate her. You had all the opportunity in the world, and you didn’t budge. That is not at the fault of the Senior Partners, nor anyone in this building excluding yourself." Lilah smiled unpleasantly. "Furthermore, your debt increased to the tune of your wife’s blood the second you asked our assistance in removing Zack’s soul." 

Derek’s eyes went wide. "Now—" 

"Don’t tell me you forgot. When you requested our services in this matter, you agreed to whatever we wanted as collateral. Our price was Melody Morris, and you signed the contract. In blood." 

"But that was when—" 

"You thought Zack would do your job. Here’s the thing about men like you, Mr. Morris…you sit back and hope others will do the dirty work for you. You don’t act, and in doing so, you compile your debt. Zack is no longer in the equation." 

"You can remove his soul again—" 

Lilah’s eyes turned black. "For what, Mr. Morris? You’re out of bargaining chips. The only remaining thing you had with which to value is now ours." 

"You can’t take Melody," Derek whispered in horror. 

"Strange, because I think we can." She smiled unpleasantly. "You have forty-eight hours. Don’t make us chase you." 

*~*~* 

He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t slept a wink. He listened and waited, but didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, she was all he saw. 

All he ever saw. 

Wesley didn’t bother glancing up when he heard the basement door open. They were bound to remember him at some point. Now that Zack was dead. Now that the deed was done. His vengeance stolen from him. Fred’s murderer gone, but not for the right reasons. Not because she had died, but because another had lived. 

They’d taken away his vengeance, and for that, he would never forgive them. 

"He’s not dead." 

Wesley inhaled sharply, head shooting up before he realized it, eyes connecting with Faith’s. Faith. The fucking bitch was the reason he was in this cage. If she’d just let him go—if she’d just understood… 

"What?" he demanded hoarsely. 

Faith licked her lips and came forward, tossing him a bottled water. "Zack. Spike didn’t kill him. Willow was able to get the soul stuffed back up his ass before Spike got the killing blow, and he thought living with his conscience was the more painful sentence. We kinda just left him." 

"You left him." 

"Yeah." 

"Wolfram and Hart could well—" 

Faith nodded. "Yeah. Gunn went back, but he was gone. No dust or anything." 

Wesley stared at her for a long minute before breaking off in a harsh, unforgiving laugh. "Fools," he spat bitterly. "The lot of you." 

"We don’t think Wolfram and Hart snagged him." 

"Yes, because that seems so unlike them." 

"Just sayin’. Willow searched the ether and his soul was still gone. Then she did some locator spell for Zack Morris and got a hit. Giles said that wouldn’t happen if he was still Mr. Personality. The spell she used is wicked specific or somethin’." Faith sighed and took another step forward, revealing the wrapped turkey sandwich she had in her other hand. "No hard feelings, boss," she said, tossing him the offering. "I know she meant a lot to you." 

He laughed without humor. "Yes. Funny when you didn’t even know her name when we last spoke." 

"Don’t need to know her name to see you’re hurting." 

"Cut the crap, Faith," he said shortly. "You were never Doctor bloody Phil." 

"Fuck, I’d hope not." 

"You don’t give a shit about me. Or Fred. Or what happened to her." 

She pursed her lips, stepping forward. "Now that’s where you’re wrong. You and me go way back." 

"As far back as you torturing me for fun, I seem to recall." 

She spread her arms. "I ain’t that girl. Not anymore." 

He smiled unpleasantly. "Now who are you trying to convince?" he asked. "You helped them. Did they even thank you?" He held up a hand. "No need to respond…I already know the answer. You try so hard to be one of them. To be accepted. To be appreciated…and they like you while you’re useful, the buzz will fade and they’ll remember who you really are. Just another miserable fuck-up. Another face in the crowd." He sneered. "You’re incredibly…dispensable, Faith. How’s it feel?" 

He didn’t bother watching her face or awaiting a response. Solemnly, Wesley turned back, fixing eyes on the wall. 

And allowed the dark to embrace him.

*~*~*

She sat idly on the sofa watching Rosalie patiently teach her grandchildren to read and write. They were reading from an encyclopedia of demons, which made the syllables longer and pronunciations tougher on Rosie. William was working away on mastering the alphabet letters with a skill far surpassed than any three-year old she could recall.

And while Melody was trying to maintain the façade of a calm and collected demeanor, her mind was ablaze with questions as her heart tried to slowly drag her from shock.

"Surprising how bright they are," Giles said softly as he sat down beside her and offered a steaming cup of tea.

"Thank you," she smiled as she accepted the gift and took a sip. "No, actually I’m not that surprised. Zack was a very bright child. Reminds me a lot of William. I’d work hours on end with him playing games and taking him to museums. Everyone told me his language and cognitive abilities were quite above his age-level."

"Well, so are Rosie and William," Giles reiterated. "While Rosie has spent less time in organized school as she should, every teacher has insisted that they would like to advance her to a higher grade level."

"Zack was so bright that he just got bored with school. I should have moved him to private school so that he’d be challenged. But he was so attached to his friends that I couldn’t. While Lisa and Jessie could go to private, Kelly’s family could never afford it. Neither could Screech. And they were so damn close as kids that I never wanted to break that bond. It gave Zack the siblings I’d always wanted to give him."

The conversation was dead for several minutes. Giles didn’t seem to know what to say and she was too far gone to the dark thoughts and questions swirling in her mind. She kept her eyes on the children. Noticing the way Rosalie and Rosie’s eyes shone the same shade of hazel and the way that Rosalie held William on her lap as casually as a big sister when they worked on writing numbers and letters.

"Melody?"

"I have no idea what to do, Rupert. I have absolutely no idea." He gave a long sigh for a response, but offered no words to guide her. "My life is over. It’s been made official: Melody’s life has been a lie. I knew it somewhere inside, but I never knew it. You know?"

"Yes," he said simply as he leaned in closer and placed a gentle hand on her arm.

"I always wanted children. More than one. Not a Kapowski kinda thing, but two or three. A girl, hopefully. Derek objected. As soon as Zack was born he said that was it. I never questioned because I assumed it had to do with money and work and all the things that meant nothing to me. Now I wish I had argued. Now I wonder what would have happened if I had been a little more paranoid. If I had cared when he hadn’t come home. I figured he was having affairs, but I had Zack so I wouldn’t complain. I never imagined he was in something so dark and evil that…" Her voice cracked, but she wasn’t over. "We met in college. I was an English major. I wanted to go teach abroad. He needed a tutor. Business major who couldn’t write a Shakespeare paper to save his life. I thought he was cute, but really had no interest. Looking back I can’t figure out how I’m not married to Jonathan Wilcox and living somewhere around Brussels."

"You can’t change the past," Giles reminded.

"No, you’re right." She turned to look at him for the first time since their conversation started. She gave a winning smile, much like her son’s, but the enthusiasm never reached her eyes. They remained dark storm clouds of sadness and uncertainty. "I’m just trying to figure out what to do now." She sighed. "Divorce Derek is first on my list, but then what? My son…" Her voice trailed as she looked again to the playing children. "I don’t feel like I fit into any society. I did charity work. I never got a job after college. Derek didn’t want me to." She rolled her eyes. "So I did bake sales and organized food drives and clothing banks. I made friends and contacts, but never anyone I could turn to. Not for this. And I have absolutely no place in this world."

"Why not?" Giles bristled as he sat his empty mug down on the coffee table.

"In this world, I’m just a liability. I think Rosie knows more about these things than I ever will. I would just be another body to count and something else to move when trouble comes."

"Bollocks," he snapped. "You’re a stable force for two children who lack that with abundance. They need a caregiver who loves and understands them and who has the abilities to teach them how to live in a normal society."

"I thought they had you?" she questioned.

"I said in normal society." They both had to laugh. "I mean it," he added minutes later. "I truly believe you would make a difference if you were a daily part of the children’s lives."

"I know Kelly is still hurting over how poorly the meeting with her family went. She was always close to her parents. I wouldn’t mind being here for her as she adjusts to everything. I always thought of her as my own."

"I think we can think of plenty of ways to keep you occupied." Both paused and neither one wanted to speak next. They were grateful when Lisa came over to the sofa to relieve some of the tension.

"Ummm…hi," Lisa said nervously as she approached the sofa.

"This is still awkward," Giles muttered to Melody as he glanced at the younger woman.

Melody, for her part, was back to her peaceful facade now that they were interrupted. "What do you need, honey?"

"Well, are you staying here now?" She asked the woman.

"Yes," Giles firmly responded.

"Well…I didn’t know if I was allowed…with everything…and…"

"As long as I’m here, I think you’re welcome. You have as much right as I do." Melody turned to Giles. "Lisa has stayed with me quite a bit over the years. Her parents moved to Guatemala to start a hospital for needy families and Lisa came and stayed with me after a nasty breakup a few months back."

"Oh," Giles replied. "Because you married a friend of mine and then had an evil bastard child with some pool guy."

"Yeah," Lisa quipped. "Pretty sure that wasn’t me."

"Pretty sure it was."

"Look, me and Faith had a little chat and I’m not whatever hellacious beast you guys have been talking about."

"You sure?"

"Do you need my entire biography?"

"I saw you. I yelled at you. Several times."

"I don’t even know who the fuck you are. I came back with Faith because I hadn’t seen my friends in a decade. Okay?"

"Well," Giles said uneasily, removing his glasses. "This is an interesting development."

Lisa gave a shy smile. "Well, if it’s okay…I need to go to work for a half shift and then I thought maybe I could get a bag and stay here a night or two."

"I would love the extra company, Lisa," Melody said softly.

"Great!" She gave an awkward wave and left.

"These past few years have really changed her," Melody commented as soon as she was out of earshot. "She had a promising career as a fashion designer back East, but after the whole situation with Zack and Kelly along with her parents selling everything and moving away…she feels pretty abandoned."

"Don’t we all," Giles commented softly.

"Yes. Yes we really do."

*~*~*

Lisa felt bad as she walked out of the Hyperion. She never wanted to lie to Melody. In many ways, Melody had become her mother and she hated lying to her parents. But this time it was necessary. She had to go.

After a quick stop by Sacred Heart to slip out a bag of items from the supply closet, she was on her way. Dr. Cox hadn’t said much when she walked out with a bag of stuff on her day off. She had merely mentioned a friend in need and he gave her a wink and a nod.

She liked her job. After moving back home and ending her relationship with Ted, she had finally reached a point of contentment with her life. It was dull and boring, but she was content. She couldn’t afford the Gucci and the Dolce & Gabbana she was used to, but she had managed to adjust. Thrift stores were a downer, but she could make due in a pinch. Nursing wasn’t fashion design, but it helped her gain some independence.

Lisa sighed as she turned the corner, approaching her desired target. She was never supposed to overhear the witch and the others she was never introduced to. She wasn’t supposed to hear the woman say, "He’s over at the warehouse on Grossman and Northside. According to records, it’s been abandoned for five years. Old storage facility."

She didn’t know the area well, but she knew she could find it. She knew she could find him. And word on the street was Zack Morris was currently beyond helpless, he was nearly dead. And while she hadn’t fully adjusted to a new reality of vampires and demons and primitive weapons, she knew that Zack—the Zack she once knew—would go to the ends of the Earth to help her. And she was ready to help him.

She was cautious as she walked into the building. The air was damp, with a strong scent of mold. She crept along slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. She had brought a flashlight, but didn’t need it as long as the sun continued to shine through the broken panes. She was afraid to call out for him. Especially after learning she had an evil twin. She didn’t know how he would respond and her confidence was currently a fragile commodity.

The scent hit her after five minutes of wandering around. After working in the hospital she would forever remember the coppery smell. Apparently, vampire blood smells a lot like human. Turning the corner, she came across the bloody, broken body of her childhood best-friend. "Oh God," she whispered as she rushed over and dropped to her knees. Tears were immediately springing from her eyes. "Zack? Zack, can you hear me?"

Zack had apparently found a moment of solace giving over to a tormented sleep. Upon hearing his name, his eyes popped over to find Lisa kneeling over him. "Oh, fuck! Please tell me I’m still dreaming."

The nurse knitted her brows in frustration. "You, too. Off course. Well, I’m kinda getting tired of explaining. It. Wasn’t. Me. Okay?"

"Huh?"  
"Good enough." With that she pulled out her flashlight and turned it on as she rummaged though her bag of assorted medical supplies. "I didn’t bring enough stitching it looks like. It may have to do until I get off work tomorrow." She sighed as she pulled out a bottle of alcohol and a large pad of gauze. "First I need to clean you up so I can figure out where the wounds are."

"Leave me alone," he cried in a voice much too weak to be Zack’s. He no longer reminded her of her friend, or a person. Just a pitiful creature left to die. The hollowness in his eyes was too much to bear, and she kept her gaze far from his.

"I’m sure you have several broken bones, but I want to clean off some of the blood before I get started on that. Besides," she added with a brief flinch as the alcohol touched the vampire’s cheek and caused him to jerk. "I only set a broken arm once in school." A pause. "And I’m not entirely sure I did it right."

"What are you talking about?" Zack croaked moment before she went to clean another cut. "Shit!"

"Yeah, guess I should mention that this might sting a little. I didn’t know how pain affected you now that you’re a vampire." She stopped for a moment to look at him. "Are you still afraid of needles? Because that would be totally hilarious." She giggled. "And I guess you got over your aversion to blood."

"W-What are you talking about? And why are you helping me you evil bitch?!?" He tried to pull away, but he cried out in pain as he remembered his many broken bones. "Oh God," he groaned.  
"Smooth move," Lisa said sarcastically as she yanked his arm close with much less gentleness than before and poured a generous amount of alcohol on a fresh piece of gauze. "I’ll fill you in on a few details, Mr. Morris, since you have apparently been on a murderous rampage. I am Lisa Turtle. The last time we saw each other was about ten years ago. Apparently, there was some evil twin who came in and pretended to be me and married your friend, Xanex. Then, I did some evil things and had a demon child named Steven. None of this is true. The real Lisa graduated from FIT and then couldn’t find work back in California. Mom and Dad moved to Guatemala and then I hooked up with Ted. He was a dick. So, I went to nursing school and am now working at Sacred Heart where I met this woman you killed and your long-lost brother. Okay? Got any questions?"

"Calling Xander my friend is a little strong, if you ask me."

"Whatever."  
There were several minutes of silence as Lisa cleaned him and then began dressing his wounds. "Your legs are really broken," Lisa stated. "Granted, you already know that. I’m not sure I can fully fix that. I’ll do the best I can. Your nose is broken, too. I’ll be able to fix that left hand. The break looks pretty clean. Shoulder too."

"Just kill me."

"Yeah, right." She continued on working, even after he started crying. After she dressed all his wounds, she began the slow and painful process of setting his bones. There was nearly an hour where the only noises were gasps of pain and cracks of bone.

Finally, as she stood up and began to clean herself off, it dawned on him. "Lisa?"

"Hey, Zack."

"So…you’re Lisa."

"That’s what my momma told me."

"I’m so sorry."

"S’ok."

"No. No. It’s not." He began to cry. "Oh, God I’m so sorry."

"Zack, you haven’t done anything to me. You called me an evil bitch, but I’m okay with that since I know it wasn’t me. Now, I know you’ve done a lot and I’ll be honest, I’m not sure if they’ll forgive you. That’s who you should apologize to. That’s the bridges you’ll have to mend. I’m just a friend helping a friend in need." With that, she went over and pulled a couple of bags of blood out of her bag. "I snagged these from downstairs when I was leaving. I saw Kelly drinking this stuff so I learned the rumors are true." She set them down next to him and sat back on the ground before gently pulling his body to the sit-up position. "I think you like it warm, but I’m not a freaking miracle worker." With that, she put the bag up to his lips. When he resisted, she whacked him on the head. "Stop being a baby and eat already.

"Lisa, let me die."

"If I was willing to do that I wouldn’t have just wasted my day off is a nasty old warehouse, would I?" A pause. "Yeah, that’s what I thought. So shut up and eat." And she was surprised and grateful when it worked.

Shortly thereafter, she gathered her things and began to leave. She made sure that Zack was propped up against a wall that would never see a ray of sunshine. "Thank you," he whispered.  
"What are friends for?"

*~*~*

"I’m gonna miss you!" Donna cried as she squeezed Willow once more.

"You too!" Both women were in tears as they hugged outside the Hyperion. The cab was waiting to take Josh, Sam and Donna to the airport where they would fly back to Washington. "Are you sure you don’t want me to teleport you back?"

"Yes," Josh said firmly. "We’re going back in a completely normal fashion. I don’t want to land in the Oval by some Star Trek antics."

"I’m gonna miss you, too, Josh," Willow sniffed as she walked over to hug the curly haired man.

"You too," he said softly as he hugged his friend.

"And have fun with those toys," the witch whispered saucily in his ear.

Josh pulled away with a fit of coughs. "Yeah," he said when he caught his breath. "We’ll talk to ya soon, Will."

"Bye," she grinned as he took Donna’s hand and headed to the cab.

Willow turned to Sam for their goodbye. While she knew she would see Josh and Donna again, she wasn’t so sure about Sam. Their first meeting was by chance. They lived two very different lives. And while she had grown close to Sam in their whirlwind romance, she knew that they shouldn’t, and likely wouldn’t, ever see each other again. "Well…"

Sam released a nervous laugh. "Quite a trip."

"Heh. Yeah. Quite."

"So…I had fun."

A pause. "Really?"

"Well, except during the parts where you or some other-worldly creature was trying to kill us. So, basically the part of the trip before you got that call."

"Yeah…" A sigh. "Sam—"

"I know." His eyes were sad. "And, you were right. I don’t love you. I don’t really know you."

A small stab of pain. _I don’t love you._

"But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I really do. And even though our worlds won’t allow us to be together, I really would like to be friends. And keep in touch. I mean that."

She smiled. "Sam Seaborn, you’re a class act." She leaned over and gave him a strong hug.

"Can witches use email?"

"This one can."

"Great! Donna will give you my email and I would love to keep in touch."

She pulled away slowly and reluctantly. "Is this your government email?"

"Uhhh…no. Strong and definite no."

"Good," she said with a smile.

"So, I’ll hear from you soon?"

"Totally." And as he climbed into the car and drove away, she began contemplating whether or not she would keep her promise.

*~*~*

With a sigh, Rosalie pushed herself out into the courtyard. She really enjoyed playing with her new cousins. It was fun to take care of somebody younger for once. And it really made her eager for the new sibling on the way. And while she enjoyed the conversations with all the new people, she was ready for a break. She was ready to hide away for a few moments and try to comprehend all of the monumental ways in which her life had just completely changed. The things she had lost: her close friend, her aunt and her chance to grow old and happy.

Her favorite hideaway was behind the bushes of the most recluse corner of the Hyperion courtyard. Since she was a small child she had spent hours there whenever she wanted to pretend she was somewhere far from home. It was silly, but she liked to hide away and pretend she was a normal child with two parents and a happy ever after.

She needed that break. That time to pretend. That time to gather her thoughts and figure out what she was going to do now that she was the Chosen One. The one sent to die for humanity.

The one who didn’t expect somebody to be behind her bushes.

"What are you—"

"Shut up!" Hunter hissed as he gestured for her to sit down.

Rosalie looked around to see if anyone was around before she ducked down beside him. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she spat.

"Hiding," he said as he gestured to a bag of Taco Bell.

"Food!" she cried as he reached over and grabbed a burrito.

"Shhh!" he warned. "I was dying for something edible. I went for a walk and found this rubbish."

"Sowwy we don’ ‘ave fine quazeen like Bwitan," she replied with a mouthful.

"Indeed," he said with a smirk as he opened up another wrapper.

She swallowed. "I guess you worked up quite the appetite after last night."

His cheeks went red instantly. "What?"

"Puh-lese. Like we all didn’t hear you two going on like wild cats last night." A pause. "And this morning."

"Dear lord," he murmured as he took a large bite of food. "Weally?"

"Totally."

He swallowed. "Her or me?"

A shrug. "Little bit of both, actually."

"Great." He rested his head up against the building wall. "Perfect. Complete bloody perfect. I just got off the phone with the Council where I was able to sufficiently have my ass handed to me, and now they can get reports that I’m apparently a man-whore."

"You apparently are. But why were they mad?"

"Because I broke every single rule of protocol and came here before your calling. They’re having some ethics committee investigate the idea that I may be insufficient to be your Watcher." He gave her a scornful look. "Since I know how much you love me being here, please hold your emotions in until we get a verdict."

"What would happen if you weren’t my Watcher? Would Faith do it?"

"No," he said with a bitter chuckle. "They would send one of the old, washed up bookends to tell you what to do."

"Oh." They ate in silence for several minutes. "Well, if it will make any difference I’ll tell them I’m not gonna work with anybody else."

"Why? You obviously loathe me. You want me gone so Faith—a Slayer with some notable flaws—can train you."

She shrugged. "You’re not all bad." She leaned over and took a swig of his soda. "I remember what you did in the alley."

He looked up in surprise. "I’m just sorry I couldn’t have done more. I really am, Rosalie."

A moment passed where their gazes remained locked. "They won’t really send somebody else, will they?"

"Probably not. The Council is in the process of updating themselves to the twenty-first century. Putting texts online and developing reliable communication lines. I am one of only a few that have had advanced Watcher training that actually understands how to use my Blackberry."

"Gotcha."

He gave her a small smile. "I know you really don’t think I have a purpose. You see me as some kind of babysitter brought here to make your life a little more depressing; but I’m not. I’m here to give you insight into all of the new challenges that are going to face you in the next few months and the next few years. Demons are going to seek you out now. You carry an invisible honing beacon that will bring vampires and demons here with the specific task to kill you. And at the same time you are going to have to learn how to deal with the new powers that have been granted to you. You have already been given the power of Sight, which I admit I have always been fascinated with. But now, Rosalie, you will have dreams and visions that will help you to save the world. You’ll have to learn to understand and interpret them while also learning your own strengths and weaknesses in battle. As the Chosen One, it will be your responsibility to truly understand yourself so that you’ll be able to fight to protect the humanity of the planet Earth. If one demon is allowed to bring forth an apocalypse of significant proportions, this universe could be drawn into the dimensions of Hell."

"Who the fuck decided to do this to a teenage girl?"

"One completely fucked up bastard."

"And you’re gonna help me?"

"With every remaining breath of my life."

"Good because this sounds kinda intense."

"A bit." A pause. "Aren’t you supposed to be in school?"

"Are you really shocked I’m not?"

"No, but stop drinking my soda."

She took another sip before handing the cup back to him. "So when does the training begin?"

"Whenever you want to start."

*~*~*

For as furiously as she pounded the punching bag, it was a miracle the thing didn’t spiral off into the nearest corner. Every slam of her fist weakened the chain from which the bag hung, compiling her rage rather than calming its hum. She just wished she could do this to Wesley’s face and get away with it.

Oh no. That would be _wrong_.

"Fucking wrong," Faith spat, whirling around and assaulting the bag with a kick that would render anyone breathing a vegetable for the rest of their days. "Fucking dispensable."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

She twisted and turned, eyes fastening on Wright, who had somehow sneaked into the room without her noticing. While it had been a while since she was on the Hyperion guest list—during a time it had been under different management—she couldn’t help but appreciate the changes Wright and Wesley had implemented over the years. The third floor, previously vacant, had been modified into a large training facility with a variety of equipment, weights, soft cushy mats, and punching bags. It was a nice change of pace from the basement.

Which was a good thing, because if she went into the basement, she’d find herself a punching bag of a different sort. "No," Faith replied dismissively, turning to backhand her immobile opponent. "Why do you…ask?"

"I’m picking up some hostility."

"Wow, Wright," Faith snarled between punches. "Can’t get anything passed you."

"Don’t tell me you and Hunter had a fight. I was really counting on you to keep his mind off—"

"You’re counting on me to bone him," she hissed. "Resident whore on duty. Keep the smokin’ hot Brit away from your precious virginal daughter. Got the memo, boss. Mind if I work out a few calories before I hop on the train?"

"Whoa," Wright exclaimed, hands coming up. "Where’d this come from?"

"You know, I think the better idea would be for me to just skip out." Faith expelled a deep breath, watching as the punching bag swung wildly back and forth, like a live animal attempting to evade an abusive owner. "Head back to London with Willow and have her swing me by the Council. ‘Cause it’s fuckin’ obvious I ain’t gonna fit in around here. You and your little group of do-gooders. I’m just the fuck-up, right? Fucked Zack, got Rosalie all hurt, wound up in the hospital—"

"Spared Nikki."

"Killed Nikki."

Wright shook his head. "She was already dead. You have to know how grateful I am that you ended it then. And what the hell, Faith? I thought you were planning on staying to help my daughter. She—"

"She has a watcher," Faith retorted. "She don’t need me."

"She likes you."

"Yeah, well, I’m sorry for that, really." She turned around, grabbing a towel off the floor and dabbing her brow. "You really want me bein’ the influence? I’m a fuck-up, Wright. A miserable fuck-up, who you’ve wanted gone since the second I walked through the door, so don’t fucking act like we’re chummy, secret BFFs. I know the fucking difference, all right? She has Hunter, who’s a good boy, so you got nothin’ to worry about. He won’t so much as look at her inappropriately, so—"

"Yeah," Wright grumbled. "‘Cause he’s been so good at keeping his hands to himself where you’re concerned."

"Big difference," she retorted. "One, I ain’t his slayer. Two, I’m the jumper, not the jumpee. Three, Hunter and me are the same age. He’s not gonna screw your daughter while she’s not legal."

"Great. That makes me feel so much better."

She rolled her eyes. "Or at all. He’s too fucking proper. Sure, he’ll do you dirty if you dish it, but not with Rosalie. For all intents and purposes, he’s her second father."

Wright arched a brow.

"Or big brother, or something." Faith shook her head. "She doesn’t need me."

"So you can just turn around and walk away from what’s happened here."

She shrugged. "What has happened here, Wright? There was a vamp, we stuck it to him, stopped all hell from breakin’ loose, even if we did cut it a little fine. What relation do I have to anyone here?"

Wright shook his head, taking a step forward. "Faith," he said softly. "What happened? I know you and I aren’t the best of friends, but you can talk to me."

Her upper lip curled. "Please."

"Look—"

"Wesley happened, all right?" Just his name had her muscles tightening, and before she could help herself, Faith had spun around and smacked a punch into the bag hard enough that the chains finally gave and it went soaring across the room before crashing against the wall with a hard thunk. She looked at it for a long second, then turned again. "Your partner. The one holed up downstairs, remember?"

Wright blinked at her stupidly. "That’s what this is about?"

"Look, I know he’s not in his right mind—his girl died, and yeah…but that doesn’t make what he said not true."

A pause. Wright licked his lips and took a step forward. "What did he say?"

Faith made a face. "What do you think? I’m a fuck-up, I’m worthless, I’m only good for one thing…and yeah, you guys are nice and all, but you don’t want me here. You don’t think of me like you do each other. Like I said, you’ve been wanting me gone since the second I got here. The big thing’s done with, and I’m not like you. I’m not a white-hat. All my life I’ve been the dunce in the class, and nothing—"

"Faith—"

"And there’s really nothing for me to stay here for, right? Might as well—"

"What about Rosalie?"

"What about her?" she shot back. "Like I said, I like the kid, but she has a real sensei. Me being here—"

"Don’t."

"I’m heading home."

"Please stay."

Faith froze, her chest heaving, sweat rolling down every inch of her skin. It took a few seconds for Wright’s words to translate into anything understandable. "What?"

"I want you to stay. We all do." He shuffled uneasily and took another step forward. "Look, you and I got off on the wrong foot, but that was no one’s fault but mine. And yeah, some of your tactics…screwing my brother, for one…well, I wish you hadn’t, but that’s…you sized up the situation and saw it was the best way, at that point, to get close to him."

She frowned, defenses falling. It was the first time anyone had mentioned that massive indiscretion without an accusatory tone—without assuming she went out just to get fucked. The first time anyone looked at her, looked at what had happened, and understood her methods. They might not be the best, and she might regret them afterward, but the girl who went out of her way to hurt people had died years ago. Died in a rainstorm outside some nobody’s apartment. She’d pounded her fists at Angel, sobbing and trying to get him to end her life for her—to spare her from the misery she’d brought upon herself, and he hadn’t because he’d known the only way to get better was to allow it to get worse at first.

God, she missed him sometimes. Angel was the only guy in the world who had never—not once—given up on her.

"And you’re right about some things," Wright continued, feet hazarding another step. "We haven’t…I didn’t welcome you with open arms, but things happen. You’re a good person, Faith, and a hell of a fighter. And I want Rosalie to have someone who’s been there. What she’s going through…I can’t imagine…but you can."

She shook her head. "Not like Buffy. I didn’t spaz when I found out I had super-powers, Wright. I liked it. I—"

He arched a brow. "Have you not noticed the ego-trip she’s been on since she found out?"

"That’s just—"

"I raised her in a world where she fights demons professionally," he said shortly. "She hasn’t been without a weapon at her side since she was five. She doesn’t see this as a burden, Faith. I don’t think she has any idea how dangerous it is. And even though I don’t…I didn’t want her to lead the sort of life I’ve led. I wanted it to be normal for her at some point."

"Not your call, Chief."

"I know that. And even over the last few years, I’ve accepted it. I guess it’s more…" Wright sighed heavily, looking away. "I wanted her to have the option at some point…and she doesn’t now. You and I might never be best friends, but we know how the world works. And I’ve never thought you were a fuck-up, Faith. Not once."

She met his eyes, a long shiver rushing down her spine. Faith wasn’t a girl who wore her emotions on her sleeve; if at all possible, she concealed them entirely. But the words from Wright played on her heartstrings in a way words hadn’t in a long time. She wasn’t going to cry, because she rarely cried at all anymore if she could help it, but for the first time in a while, she felt the need to rein in how she felt. Things could get messy if she didn’t.

"Wesley’s going through something I don’t think anyone can understand unless they’ve been there," Wright continued softly. "He doesn’t speak for any of us. I really want you to stay. For Rosalie…and for me. I know I’ll feel better with you around."

Faith inhaled deeply and flexed her fingers.

"I’ll think about it."


	34. Chapter 34

"Where are you going?" Buffy asked, doing her best not to look Wright in the eye as he hurried down the stairs.

He paused the second he saw her, which made her regret having spoken up at all. "Oh," he said awkwardly. "Hey, Buffy."

Every molecule in her body tensed. She found herself focusing on a spot on the wall. "Hey. I—uhh…don’t let me keep you."

"Is everything—"

"Wright…please."

A look of understanding washed over his face—one she couldn’t stand. One that made her feel more naked and vulnerable and alone than anything else.

"I’m so sorry," he said hurriedly, resuming his track toward the basement door. "I’m an idiot. I’ll just…let me…I’ll steer clear until you…"

"Wright—"

He nodded brusquely. "Gone," he said, disappearing in a blink. And leaving her alone.

Buffy sighed and rubbed her arms, her eyes locked on the floor. She felt like she ought to be doing something—ought to be moving, ought to be researching, ought to be…whatever. Nothing made sense. The wide, open arena of the Hyperion lobby, bright where her eyes had grown accustomed to darkness. The clothes on her body itched against her healing wounds, the slayer’s blood she’d reluctantly consumed churning in her stomach and solidifying her determination to stay as far away from Faith as possible until the buzz had faded. The last thing she needed was for those around her to start looking like food.

Better she wean herself back onto pig’s blood as soon as possible. The sooner everything got back to normal…

Buffy sniffed hard, pulling her sweater tighter around her body. Things would never be normal again. Never again. There were things she couldn’t do now—things she didn’t think she’d be able to do ever again. Even looking at Wright was painful. It wasn’t difficult at all to see Zack. Zack’s black, twinkling eyes. Zack’s lips tugging upward as he reached for a blade off his wall of goodies with which to slice her skin. Zack’s hand pumping his dick. Zack’s body pressed against hers, tearing into hers, splitting her apart as his fangs made harvest of her skin, twisting her, tormenting her, pounding her into a dark, twisted place. Stripping her of everything. Making her nothing more than a device by which to torture others.

He’d torn her down and laughed as he did it.

So many years repairing what Angelus had done to her. Being anything but the damsel that needed saving. Buffy had always prided herself on her strength—she was often the rock upon which others relied. But now every time someone looked at her, she was naked. She wasn’t a person…rather a commodity. She was a weakling the others needed to protect.

_Weak, weak, weak…_

Zack had broken her. Like a fucking twig. He’d dehumanized her.

And she didn’t have enough clothes on. In jeans, a camisole, and a navy sweater, she was still too naked. She needed clothes. She needed protection.

She needed…

She would see Zack every time she looked at Wright. Feel those shivers. That dark dread racing down her spine—the horror of not knowing. If Spike would get there in time, if the next time she wouldn’t be able to fight Zack away. If she would ever see sunlight again.

 _Goddammit_.

"Goddammit!"

Before Buffy could help it, her hand had balled into a fist and smashed into the wall next to Wright’s weapons display, sawdust and plaster billowing in a hazy cloud. Her skin cracked and broke, blood oozing through shattered flesh, and she barely felt it.

God, she barely felt a thing.

"You shouldn’t do that."

Buffy sighed, her shoulders sinking. "Hey, Kelly."

There was an awkward shuffle. "Where’s Spike?"

"He went out for blood and some low budget comedies. Trying to take my mind off…you know…" She sighed and turned around, her eyes on her bleeding hand. "Look," she said softly, "I don’t know if I’m ready for…"

"And I don’t want to push you," Kelly agreed. "I just…I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Buffy glanced up at that. "Yeah, I’m just fine. Right as rain."

"Right. Stupid question."

"I’m just…" The blonde shook her head and took a few steps forward. "I don’t know what you wanna hear. I just…"

"I know."

"I feel so…stripped of everything."

Kelly nodded, moving forward rapidly. "I know."

"He…Kelly…"

And before she could help herself, she was crying. Fat, unwanted tears crackling down her cheeks as hard sobs rocked through her chest. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. The dark of the dungeon returned. Zack’s eyes. Zack’s smile. Zack’s hands over her skin. Every time she blinked, she was there again, and it wouldn’t go away. It wouldn’t…

Buffy didn’t know when Kelly had wrapped her arms around her, when she’d pulled her into a hug. She didn’t even know if she wanted it…but she couldn’t pull away. Every time she tried something held her in place. There was something…

"Kelly," Buffy sobbed. "I don’t…"

"I know," the other woman said. "I’m so sorry, Buffy."

"I keep seeing him."

"I know."

"I hate this. I fucking hate this."

Kelly nodded, brushing her hair out of her eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Didn’t speak.

Words right now were not needed.

*~*~*

"Ah, a tourist," Wesley drawled. He sat against the bars, facing the stairwell…as though he’d been waiting for Wright’s visit. "Come to your senses?"

Wright approached him stoically. "We have a problem."

"You have several…the first being that you locked up your friend and ally in a steel box while sparing the man who not only raped and brutalized your sister-in-law, but violated your daughter and, oh yes, murdered my fiancée."

"Zack got his soul back. There was nothing we could’ve done."

"I find staking works in most instances."

"You’re not hearing me, Wes—"

"No," the other man barked, climbing to his feet. "You’re just not using the right words. Tell me again…why are we letting Fred’s murderer walk the streets?"

"Because that’s the way it is."

"Bollocks."

Wright rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Look, Wesley…we all loved Fred—"

"Oh please. Don’t give me this speech."

A cold pause. "What?"

"Treat me and her like we’re other people. Give me the ‘I’ve been there’ line—"

Wright’s jaw tightened. "Well, I hate to break it to you, jackass, but I have. And believe it or not, I do know what you’re going through, so you better stop pissing off the friends you have before we don’t want to help."

Wesley came at the bars so fast it took his rocking against them to remind Wright that there was a reliable barrier between them. In that second, he looked positively feral. "I don’t want your help," he growled. "What the sod would I do with the help of a man who’s glad for what happened to him?"

A dark shudder raced down Wright’s spine. Any other man would have earned a broken nose…with Wesley, though, he had to remain tempered. "Wes…"

"I mean, you refer to Amber as Life’s Great Lesson all the time, don’t you? But how many people know the truth? The full truth?" He smiled nastily. "You’re glad Darla put her in the ground. After all, had she not, you wouldn’t know Cordelia, now would you? And Cordelia is the woman you’re destined to be with. Cordelia’s the fucking love of your life, isn’t she? And you wouldn’t know her or so much as have touched her were it not for the fact that Amber was gutted against your wall."

"That’s. Enough."

"Oh dear. Did I go too far?" Wesley shook his head. "I suppose the truth is nasty, isn’t it? Hard to act like the only man who ever lost anything when he’s grateful he doesn’t have to deal with it now. How fast do you think you would dump Amber on her arse if she were to waltz back through those doors with your son still nestled in her belly?" He laughed harshly. "Don’t fucking tell me you know how it is. You got rid of your high school crush and met the woman of your dreams without the inconvenience of a civil suit. Close break there, eh, mate?"

Wright didn’t realize he’d breached his own rule of contact until he saw Wesley’s head snap back and felt the sting of flesh smacking flesh spread across his fingers. And he was moving before he could stop himself. Made sick, twisted with fury, and afraid now, more than ever, that he might take a man’s life.

Never in a million years had he pegged that man to be Wesley.

"Truth hurts," the former watcher sneered from where he lay sprawled across the basement floor. "Doesn’t it?"

*~*~*

Melody sighed as she stepped onto the back veranda and under a dark curtain of endless night. Her conversation with Giles had left her a little drained, but more comfortable than she’d thought possible given everything that had happened. There was an undeniable sense of calm about that man—something around which she’d never been in her life. Something she hadn’t thought possible in the modern day, when men treated women like equals without being bastards about it. 

Perhaps she’d just been with Derek so long she’d forgotten what real men were like. 

And now her son was out there. Somewhere. Needing her. God, she was so torn. Every maternal instinct in her body screamed that she should abandon her post here and go to him. However, the rational woman couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the dark maliciousness stretched across his face, the glee he took in the pain of others. How he’d threatened her grand-babies, threatened Kelly; how he’d snapped poor Winifred’s neck, how he’d brutalized Zack Wright’s surrogate sister. No, these things were unforgivable, and even if Melody would be eternally grateful to Spike for sparing her boy, she knew she couldn’t go be the mother Zack needed. 

Her baby might be hurting, but the people here were hurting more. 

"Melody." 

Every molecule in her body froze; her blood ran cold. If she lived a thousand years, she would never get that voice out of her head. Only this was worse—this was real. Bile churned in her stomach and she had to swallow a scream, but somehow she managed to turn and glare down the man that had ripped her family away. 

"Get out," she hissed. 

Derek took a step forward, tossing a quick glance to the Hyperion bay windows to make sure he wasn’t seen. _Coward_. Such a _coward_. She’d known it for years, of course, but she only admitted it now. Though to come here, where everyone wanted a taste of his blood, he must have good reason. "You have to come with me," he said quickly. 

Fury wrapped around her veins. Melody shook her head and took a step back. She had no idea if Rupert or anyone was in earshot, but in a house full of vampires, someone would come running if she screamed. "You can’t be serious," she said incredulously. "After what you’ve done…to Zack. To _our little boy_ , Derek. You _destroyed_ him." 

"Melody—" 

"And Zack Wright. Did you really think I’d never find out about that?" 

"Well, yes, now that you mention it." 

"How dare you—" 

"He was supposed to be—" 

"Expendable." 

Derek’s eyes darkened. "I am not having this argument with you. Not right now. You have to come with me." 

"Like hell." 

"They’re coming after you." 

Melody’s blood ran cold. "What? What are you talking about?" 

"Zack’s soul had a price on it." 

Her eyes went wide. "You…you’re responsible for removing Zack’s soul? You took him away? You had him—" 

"Stop." 

"Don’t you dare tell me to stop!" she screamed. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you even care that you ruined our son’s life? That your other son—" 

"I have no other son!" Derek roared. 

A presence behind her. Instantly, Melody’s heart-rate spiked. "Good," a cool, however furious voice drawled. "I’d hate to kill my father." 

She whirled around before she could help herself. Wright stood in the doorway, his prized crossbow in his arms, aimed with deadly accuracy at Derek Morris. Her pulse-raced and her heart pounded, and while she didn’t dare intervene, the very real part of her that had once loved Derek, that was wounded and hurt from the pain he’d inflicted, that remembered the man he’d been when he’d romanced her so many years ago, didn’t want to see his blood spilt. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened. 

"Zack," Derek whispered in horror. 

"Paps," Wright replied acidly. "Glad you could stop in." 

"Let me explain—" 

"Gee, let me think." Wright quirked his head, his eyes furious. "No. I don’t think I’ll be doing that." 

"I didn’t know—" 

"The fuck you didn’t know! Listen to the lady and get out of here. Get the fuck out of here before I break my cardinal rule and strike you dead in front of your soon-to-be-ex. I don’t do in other humans, but fuck, Daddy, I’m not sure you qualify." 

Derek, seeing he was going to get nowhere with his illegitimate son, turned his attention back to Melody. "You have to come with me." 

"What?" Wright barked. "That’s rich." 

"They’re coming after her!" the older man squealed. "I…when I asked them to remove Zack’s soul, there was a price." 

Color drained from Melody’s face. "What?" 

Wright’s eyes went wide. "You’re fucking shitting me," he spat, arching the crossbow higher. "You’re fucking shitting me!" 

"You traded me in exchange for Zack’s soul?" 

"He wasn’t supposed to fail! If he’d just gotten to that whore and her bastard child—" 

There was an inhuman growl and an arrow fired, piercing into Derek’s shoulder and sending him crashing to the ground. And Wright moved like the wind, smacking him hard with the crossbow before allowing his fury to translate to his fists. "That’s my child!" he screamed, pounding angry red bruises into Derek’s skin. "My child, you gutless, worthless piece of shit. You’re fucking lucky I don’t chop you up and feed you to your son, whose life you royally fucked over. You don’t come here. You don’t fucking talk about my wife or my kid. You stay the fuck." Punch. "Away." Slam. "From." Smack. "Me!" 

It was a live train wreck, watching the boy who could be her son beat the living hell out of her husband; it took a lot to pull her eyes away from the bloody tangle that was Derek’s face, but Melody found the strength to turn away, finding herself immediately in Giles’s arms. Over his shoulder, the lobby was beginning to fill. Kelly and Buffy joined by Rosalie and Hunter. Faith emerged from the upper level, and Spike stood at the other entrance, his arms full of blood and supplies. Everyone was watching her—watching them, and though there was empathy, the only thing Melody felt with absolution was a growing sense of _this is ours_. 

They were looking at her like family; family ready to fight to the ends of the earth for each other.

For her.

There was a deafening crack behind. Melody didn’t turn, rather braced herself against Giles’s chest.

"If I ever…" Zack Wright panted, "see you sniffing around me and mine again, I’ll fucking bash your brains in. Do you understand me?"

There was a pitiful whimper, and then silence.

*~*~*

He’d just beaten his father within a half inch of his life, yet for everything, Wright couldn’t get Wesley’s mocking rhetoric out of his head. The idea—the suggestion­—that what Darla had done to Amber had been a blessing. That walking in that morning, Rosalie at his side, ice-cream in the car, that awful smell in the air, had been anything but the worst moment of his life…

It was almost worse for the twisted part of him that hated himself so richly for the truths it revealed. There was nothing Wright wouldn’t do to turn back the pages of time, place himself between Amber and Darla that day, and save the woman who never had a chance in this world from the fate she was given. Nothing he wouldn’t do…but Amber’s memory was almost a phantom now, chasing away the darkness for the reminder of what losing pure light had once done to him…but he would be lying if he said he regretted his life now. If he said he’d rather be a father three times over as Amber’s husband than the role he fit today.

Amber had nothing on Cordelia. He’d loved her, of course, but he’d never been in love with her. Perhaps Amber the ideal, not Amber the person…and the fact that Wesley picked at that scab, that he recognized Wright’s shortcoming, made him hate himself so richly that he could barely meet his mirror’s gaze.

He didn’t wish Amber dead, but he didn’t miss her, and he hadn’t for a long time. He remembered the pain of losing her, but it was eclipsed to the harmony he’d found in the aftermath. He loved Cordelia more than he could have known to love at such an age—when the still believed in fairytale endings. Had he the opportunity to undo what was done, he wouldn’t go back to her.

He’d missed her so much and for so long, but over the past fifteen years, he’d found himself. He’d become someone else. Someone who didn’t love her anymore…not the way a husband should love his wife, rather the way one fondly remembered someone from their past. It felt sacrilegious—but death wasn’t sacred in his world. His memory of Amber had been once, and God he hated Wesley for bringing that front and center. For pointing out the one thing Wright had wanted to remain buried as long as possible.

The fact that he wouldn’t want back the woman who had changed him more in death than she ever had or would have in life.

He wouldn’t want her.

And the knowledge made him sick.

Perhaps it was easier to focus on that than the aftermath of what had occurred outside. His father’s blood was on his hands. His could-be mother trembled in the arms of the older watcher. Buffy had curled into Spike’s side the second he entered the room, steadfastly ignoring everyone but her lover and her childe, who sat on her other side. Cordelia, Gunn, and Willow had all emerged at once, weapon ready—even his extremely pregnant soon-to-be wife—but had since consigned themselves to the plate of snack foods Kelly had placed on the middle table. Hunter and Rosalie emerged from one of the upper levels, where they’d been practicing sword-handling—and much to Wright’s pleasure, Rosalie had tossed Hunter on his back within three seconds.

Faith lingered toward the back, bruised fists and a tired, wise look in her eyes. She met his gaze across the room, and in the slightest instant, they understood each other.

Wesley had done the same thing to her. And while Wright knew most of what had been said came at the expense of having lost Fred, he wasn’t sure if he could forgive it. Not now…and he didn’t think Faith was any closer.

"What happens now?" Melody asked. "Wolfram and Hart—"

"Not a problem," Willow said, batting a quick hand. "Quick dash of herbs—"

"Not a problem?" Melody repeated.

"We’ll, we’re hoping." The redhead flashed a smile. "It’ll be a temporary fix until I can figure out how to…well…until we can figure out…ummm…magic." She buried her face in a book before anyone could fire off another question.

"I wish I could say I can’t believe it," Melody whispered. "I just…he bargained my son’s soul, Rupert."

"With your blood," Giles said, his voice steely.

"And we let him go, why?" Rosalie demanded. "Dad—"

"I beat him into a pulp."

"Yeah, and then you followed that show of strength with a brilliant setting free of the bad guy." She arched her brow at him and shook her head. "Look, the longer he’s out, the more damage he does."

Hunter sighed. "Rosalie—"

"Not now, four-eyes."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Look, kid—"

Cordelia’s eyes went wide, her hands shooting to her belly. "Ummm," she said, fighting to her feet. "I think we have…another…problem."

"Another problem?" Rosalie demanded.

"Umm, yeah. Rather pressing one, too." Her panicked gaze met Wright’s. "My water just broke."

*~*~*

The next few moments were a whirlwind of chaos, much like several other experiences that had recently taken place within the confines of the Hyperion. Wright ran to Cordelia and started for the door. Rosalie ran upstairs to retrieve the bag of supplies that had been packed weeks ago. Gunn had grabbed his keys and was getting ready to head out back to grab a car. Kelly had William in her arms and Rosie on her tail, following her brother and sister-in-law to the door.

Nobody was thinking about the situation. The full situation. Except for Giles. He looked to Willow. "Seal the doors," he ordered.

"What? Huh? Baby!" Willow reasoned.

"Seal the doors!" He yelled. And within an instant all the doors were sealed shut.

Wright was furious. "What the fuck?" he shouted as he turned to the elder Watcher. "We have to get her to the hospital now!"

"You cannot leave this building as long as Cordelia Chase hasn’t given birth."

"Oh God," Cordelia gasped as realization kicked in. "Oh no, oh hells no!"

"Wait a minute!" Rosalie snapped. "You mean my gramps is fucking us over again? Tell me now why killing him wasn’t the perfect idea?"

"The blood is something that Wolfram and Hart is requesting, not just Derek Morris." Giles cast a weary look to Kelly. "All I know is that she can’t leave here now."

"I’m not giving birth here!" Cordy shrieked, grasping Wright’s arm as she waddled back and forth. "I already just wet the sofa in front of my friends and family. I’m not going to pop this baby out on my brand-new mattress!"

"It’ll be alright," Kelly said taking a small step forward. "William was delivered at home. In fact, Spike was the one who delivered him."

"Don’ even look at me!" Spike cried as the room turned to look at the platinum vampire.

"I was in the delivery room with my brother Billy and sister Nicky. Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get through it."

Cordelia’s eyes filled with tears. "This is so not fair." She turned to Wright. "And this is all your fault."

"What? I don’t th—"

"Now’s not the time to argue," Melody gently warned.

"So what do we do?" Gunn asked. "Besides let that chick back inside."

The room turned to see Lisa pounding on the window. She had apparently tried the sealed doors and was now working to get somebody’s attention. "You’ve got to be kidding me," Buffy grumbled. "Didn’t we get rid of her?"

"She keeps talking nonsense," Kelly muttered to her sire.

"She better not have that evil bastard in tow or I’ll kill him," Spike spat. "Don’ think I won’."

"Don’t think I’ll stop you," Kelly warned as she walked to the door, still balancing her son on her hip. "Willow, please. She won’t stop knocking until we let her in."

"What about Cordy?" Wright cried.

The brunette vampire rolled her eyes. "We’ve got time, Zack. Just because her water broke doesn’t mean the baby’s gonna pop right out. The baby will come when the baby wants to. It could be an hour or a day. We just need to get Cordy upstairs and comfortable. From there we’ll just wait for nature to take its course. Once the contractions begin, then we’ll start thinking about the delivery."

"But she needs to be at the hospital!"

"Yes!" Cordelia agreed. "I need to be at the hospital. Epidermals are at the hospital and I was promised an epidermal!"

"Sorry, Charlie," Willow sighed as she released the spell long enough for Lisa to tumble inside.

The scent followed the moment the woman entered the room. It was unmistakable. While humans could only smell the soap and shampoo upon her skin, the vampires could smell more. Smell him.

"You bitch!" Spike snarled as he stomped up to her. "You whore! You workin’ for them now? Why the fuck did you even come here?"

"What? I work at the hospital now. And who are you?"

"Don’t play coy, Lisa," Kelly said as she shook with anger and emotion. She was doing all she could to contain herself while in the presence of her children. "What are you doing here? And why did you go to him?"

"Because he’s my friend, Kelly. I’m sorry about everything that’s happened, but all I know is that the last time I saw him, he was my friend. We were happy then. You and Zack had just celebrated your first anniversary. We had drinks at that new bar and then came back to your place and passed out."

"Stop babbling nonsense!" Spike roared. "And tell the truth!"

"The truth as I see it is that I’m not who you think I am. The last time I talked to Kelly was when you sent me that email telling me the trip to D.C. was off. No explanation. No nothing. Just that. And then you never talked to me again. I found out you were living in some place called Sunnydell, so I tried to call. I said hello and Zack hung up on me." She glared at Spike. "I didn’t marry that Xander guy or anything that happened. I have proof from FIT and Sacred Heart to collaborate, so I’d appreciate a little slack on the name calling."

"You went to see him," Kelly reminded.

"I did. And I’m sorry if it offends you, but no matter what he’s done, I couldn’t let him just…die. He was my best friend. And once upon a time, you were, too."

"Forget the kid, ‘m killin’ her!" Spike bellowed.

"No," Buffy said grabbing his arm. "Forget it."

"Forget it?" Spike and Kelly demanded in unison.

"Yes," she sighed. "Let’s just forget it." She looked at her husband. "Please."

That last word was likely the only thing that caused the vampires to back down. Spike marched off to the back of the room while Kelly walked over and placed her kids on the sofa. Neither one seemed happy about the decision, but knew that Buffy had all the ards in the situation.

"What do you mean you never married Xander?" Buffy questioned of the nurse. "You did…that night. And had Steven…the demon child."

"How can I prove that wasn’t me?!?"

"I have an idea," Willow said coming forward to stand in front of Lisa. "Likely, she is either lying or Wolfram and Hart has played with her memories too. I can perform a simple mind sweep to see what’s going on up in that evil little brain of hers."

"So, I’m guessing you don’t like me either."

"Honestly, none of us like you." Willow closed her eyes and muttered something to herself before placing her palms on either side of Lisa’s temples. Their connection lasted nearly a minute before the witch pulled away with a gasp. "Well…this is kinda weird."

"What?" the room asked in unison.

Willow shrugged. "No tampering detected and there really is no indication that she’s not telling the truth." She looked at the nurse again, knowing now that she had gone and tended to Zack’s wounds. "While she’s not a saint, she somehow isn’t the Lisa that we met that night."

"Whatever!" Cordelia cried. "I don’t care if she’s a Frontack demon!" She doubled over in pain, thankfully being caught by Wright, who had never released his hold. "I’m having a contraction and I want my epidermal!"

*~*~*

Cordelia had been upstairs for nearly an hour now. Kelly and Buffy were tending to her while Spike tended to calming Wright from his parent-to-be hysteria. While the Lisa situation was far from resolved, she was sent with Gunn to gather any supplies she could steal from the confines of Sacred Heart. Giles and Willow began studying the Lisa situation while Melody watched over the grandchildren.

Rosalie, a nervous wreck, had found solace in beating the shit of if Hunter in one of the training rooms.

"For a moment," Hunter panted as he was thrown once to the padded ground once more. "Let’s pretend that I’m a human. A human who’s already suffered significant internal bruising in the past few minutes."

"I like pretending you’re an evil vampire. The other one’s just a stretch. Why would I fight some human?"

Hunter sat up slowly with a glare. "There was a brief moment today in which I liked you."

The door swung upon and Faith walked in with a smirk. "Did you two pass it back and forth during spelling class?"

"Thank God," Hunter sighed as he flopped back to the floor. "You two can beat each other for awhile since I’m beat."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, but looked grateful to be in Faith’s company. "So, you wanna spar?"

Faith gave a shrug. "I dunno, kiddo. I think you better get used to the one punching bag."

"Dad told me that you’re thinking of leaving."

"You’re what?" Hunter scrambled to his feet. "Is that true?"

Faith arched her brows. "Don’t act like she just told you there’s no Easter Bunny."

"I think you should stay," Rosalie said softly. "I want you to stay."

"What’s my place here? You know the basic moves and whatnot. The Energizer Bunny can tell you all about the psychological crap. It’ll be fine."

Hunter’s eyes darkened. "What’s happened, Faith?"

"Nothing," she said while noticeably avoiding his eyes. "I just figure that I’ve done my duty here. Probably should get back so the Whiffenpoofs can tell me where to go next."

"Bollocks," Hunter snarled as he walked over to the women. "You hated that gig. You never liked them breathing down your back and were waitin’ for the sodding chance to break free. You have that now. Stay here. The Hellmouth is just a couple hours south and there’s productive things to do without running away."

"Great," the dark slayer muttered. "Now I’ve got the Cabbage Patch Kids on my case."

"Please stay," Rosalie begged. "I need some real training and Hunter needs you, too."

"Yeah," Faith said sarcastically. "Who else is he gonna bone if I’m not around?"

"That’s a very serious question," Hunter admitted. His comment finally caused her to look him in the eyes. While he had a smirk on his face, she could read past it. "And I could use a friend right now."

"Well, I’m gonna go get a drink." But as the slayer left the room, she had more to think about.

*~*~*

"Oh my God!" Cordelia cried as another contraction hit. "Oh fuck! I’m gonna die!"

"No you aren’t!" Kelly said calmly. "Just breath, remember." She looked to Buffy who was holding a cool cloth to dab Cordy’s brow. "She’s dilated to six now."

As the contraction slowly subsided, the woman flopped back on the pillows. "When can I push?"

"When you hit ten."

"Ten?"

Kelly bit her lip. "You’re doing great."

"ZACK WRIGHT!!! GET YOUR SCRAWNY LITTLE ASS IN HERE!!!"

As the vampires exchanged another look, they could here the stairs shake as footsteps ran toward them. As he burst into the room, he cried, "Boy or girl?"

"I’m only a six," Cordelia whimpered.

"You’re always a ten to me," he said with an awkward smile. Looking to Kelly and Buffy, he realized that she hadn’t had the baby yet. He slowly approached her, much like the Crocodile Hunter encountering a feral cat. "You look good."

"I’d look better with an epidermal." She blinked back her tears. "Zack, I’m pretty scared right now."

"She’s doing great," Kelly soothed as Buffy slipped out to check on supplies.

"It’s okay, baby," Wright muttered as he immersed himself in her hair. "You’re the best."

"Oh, oh, oh, oh…gawd!" she cried as another contraction began.

"Don’t push!" Kelly repeated. "Breath. Focus on Zack. Zack’s here now!"

"I love you!" she screamed. Immediately she followed. "Oh, I hate you!!"

Under different conditions it would be comical to see Zack Wright so out of his element. The look of terror in his eyes would be laughable, if it wasn’t so damn romantic to see how much he loved her. "I’m so sorry. I wish I could trade places with you right now."

"You’d already be dead!" she growled.

"You’re past seven now." Kelly was getting anxious. She wanted some of the medical supplies to arrive.

"How much longer?" Wright asked his sister-in law.

"At this rate, you’ll be a daddy by morning."

*~*~*

This was a group of individuals unaccustomed to being trapped indoors. While they had considered a quick patrol, everybody knew that staying at the base was the best strategy to making sure the baby arrived safe and sound.

Lisa had arrived and went upstairs to help with the delivery. Kelly ran the delivery room and Wright wasn’t seen downstairs after Cordelia’s initial bellow. Buffy had decided to remain downstairs for the most part, remaining glued to her hubby. She would briefly break away long enough to get an update on how things were going upstairs.

The vampire couple had decided to sit out in the courtyard and enjoy the crisp night air. Words weren’t spoken as the quietly enjoyed being in the solace of each other. But they weren’t the only ones who were feeling a sense of cabin fever.

"Is it wrong of me to be grateful that Willow did that sleeping spell on the children?"

"You get used to that sort of thing," Giles comforted as he and Melody walked outside. For a moment it looked as though they were holding hands.

"I’m still impressed that you were able to recite that entire passage in Sumerian."

Giles blushed. "Really, ancient texts and dialects come as second nature."

Melody giggled. "If I had half as much intellect as you, maybe. But for most of us it’s rather doubtful."

"It’s not that difficult. I’ll show you sometime my collection of texts and manuals for deciphering languages."

Spike couldn’t take it. "Is this how geeky people flirt?"

"Dear God," Giles yelped as he realized they weren’t alone.

"How am I not supposed to wig when I see my dad hitting on someone," Buffy chirped.

"Oh no," Melody assured a little too quickly. "We’re just—"

"Conversing," Giles hastily finished.

"So that’s what you kiddies are callin’ it these days."

"Ignore him," Giles warned as they walked over to sit near the young couple.

The silence quickly returned as they sat awkwardly together. Melody spent most of the time looking out into the night, obviously thinking of her husband and son. Buffy placed her head on Spike’s shoulder and stared at the ground. The two men exchanged several glances, but never said a word.

"Damn!" Gunn laughed as the back door burst open. "I’m just glad it was you and not me."

"Trust me, mate," Hunter grumbled. "You’ll be on the list eventually."

"Look," Rosalie reasoned. "It was nothing personal."

"You can’t tell me that shiner wasn’t personal," Gunn snickered. "Guess Roe doesn’t care for listening to you and Faith do your personal work out all night long."

"That had nothing to do with it!" Rosalie shrieked in a decibel only a sixteen year-old could replicate.

"She miscalculated her drop kick." Hunter paused. "So she tells me."

"I did and I said sorry so shut the fuck up already."

"Bet Faith will kiss it and make it better," Gunn teased.

"I bet that’s not all she’ll kiss," Rosalie added.

"Bloody hell," Hunter croaked. Then he looked up to see Giles giving him a look. "Hi, Rupert."

"Hello," he said slowly before turning to a chuckling Spike and Buffy.

"Sorry," Buffy coughed. "We were just taking some bets over here."

"Never mind us, children. Go back and play."

"Speaking of Faith," Hunter began. "Has anyone seen her for a while?"

"Getting horny?"

"Rosalie Wright, get you mind out of the gutter!"

"I’m a sixteen year-old teenage. Yeah fucking right."

"She was in the study with Willow earlier," Giles commented. "I think they were talking about London."

Rosalie and Hunter shared a look, all mirth and humor gone. "I told you we should have made her a crossbow." Rosalie folded her arms in disgust.

Hunter patted her shoulder. "You can still give her the stake package."

"You’re making Faith presents?" Buffy asked.

"Trying to get her to stay," Rosalie explained. "She wants to go back to London."

"Really?" Buffy arched a brow.

Just then, the dark-haired slayer walked outside. "Hey, who brought the keg?"

"My dad keeps a bottle of Crown in his top desk drawer."

With that, Gunn slipped inside to look for booze.

"Anything going on out here or has cabin fever and the screams of a birthing woman finally gotten to everyone?" When no one answered, Faith continued on. "Well, I know for one thing I’m itching for a good kill. Any takers?" Nobody answered, which didn’t seem to surprise her.

A piercing scream erupted from inside as Gunn and Willow emerged carry armfuls of liquor. As the night continued on, bottles were silently passed among the adults. Faith gave Rosalie a shot of Jack Daniels before Giles growled and Rosalie passed the bottle away. 

Dawn was quickly approaching, but nobody was ready to sleep. Nobody would rest until Cordelia and baby was safe and sound. First one, then two of the bottles were emptied. Everyone was sitting in an off-set circle, listening to their friend and waiting for news. Finally, the screams stopped. Rosalie hopped up and began to pace, keeping her eyes glued to the door.

And then it happened. The back door burst open and Wright ran out, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He ran over to Rosalie and scooped her up in his arms. "Go meet your baby sister!"

Applause and shouts of joy filled the courtyard. Rosalie squealed and wiggled free, bolting for the stairs. Everyone else ran over to give congratulations. Bottles of liquor surrounded the demon hunter and he took opportunity to indulge in a few celebratory swigs between hugs.

His grin showed no signs of fading. "She did great according to Kelly. The baby looks big and they say the gunky blue color is healthy." He paused as Melody enveloped him in a long hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He returned the gesture and fought back the tears that began to burn his eyes.

"Gotta name, Paps?" Faith asked as she gave him a pat on the back.

"I’m sure Cordy will inform me in the morning. She wants to sleep here for a while before we go to the hospital." Spike and Buffy both hugged him next. "I don’t know what to do now. I guess I need to get those little cigars that say ‘It’s a girl’ and pass them out to strangers."

"Don’ have cigars," Spike said rummaging in a pocket. "But I have a pack of these."

And as dawn made its way to Los Angeles, Wright enjoyed a pack of Marlboros with his closest friends and family.


	35. Chapter 35

"You sure don’t want me to go with you?" 

Cordelia smiled sleepily, her heavy-lidded eyes lifting from the crown of her newborn daughter’s head just long enough to meet Wright’s concerned eyes. "Of course I want you to come with me," she said. "But you need to stay here."

"I don’t think anyone would keep me from seeing you to the hospital," Wright countered. 

"No, but…Derek and Melody and…I might have screamed myself hoarse since what happened earlier, but I do remember it. We can’t afford to slow down right now." She smiled down at her sleeping daughter, pulling the flannel blanket Rosalie had found in her bedroom tighter around the baby’s shoulders. "She’ll still be here when the world stops ending, Daddy. For now, though, Giles and Melody will take care of us. Melody considers our girl her granddaughter, you know."

Wright shuffled uneasily. "Yeah, well…I just don’t…she’s a great lady, Melody…but she’s not my mother."

"You can have more than one mother, sweetie."

"Yeah." He was quiet for a second, then shook his head. "She’ll be a part of her life," he decided softly. "I just don’t know if I…she’s Zack’s mom, not mine."

"The woman just lost her son—"

"Are we really going to have this talk now?"

Fire sparked behind Cordelia’s eyes before they fell again to the sleeping bundle in her arms. "No," she decided. "Not right now. But you can count on it coming at you hard and fast the second we get a second to breathe, Mister." She craned her neck around Wright and nodded. "Gunn and Lisa look like they’re ready, too. You’re sending me off with a small army."

"No, I’m sending you off with a librarian, a grandma, a maybe-evil nurse, and Gunn."

"Gunn’s what I meant by small army."

Wright smirked appreciatively. "Fair enough." He leaned inward and brushed a tender, heartfelt kiss across his soon-to-be wife’s lips, then again on his daughter’s brow. "You be careful."

"You, too. Don’t do anything stupid."

He flashed her a cocky grin. "It’s me."

"Yeah. Don’t do anything stupid." Cordelia looked up and grinned at her group of protectors as they stepped up, ready for assignment. "Ready to get Miss Kelly off to the doctor?" she asked.

"Kelly?" Gunn asked. "What’s wrong with Kelly?"

"I think she means the baby," Melody whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "You named the baby after my Kelly?"

Cordelia and Wright shared a small, private smile. "We named her Elizabeth Winifred Kelly Wright," Cordelia explained. "But we’re gonna call her Kelly."

"Cordy has this thing about word-order in names," Wright explained. "We knew we wanted her name to be Kelly, and we wanted Buffy’s name in there some way, too. This one insists Kelly Elizabeth doesn’t sound as good as Elizabeth Kelly, which, to me, sounds like a 1950s movie star or somethin’." 

"Nothing wrong with that," Cordelia reasoned. "And after Fred…we couldn’t resist."

"But we didn’t want to name her Winifred because Wesley’s…well…" Wright’s eyes darkened a fraction. "He’s not himself, and in this mood, I don’t think he’d take our naming the baby after Fred in a good way. So we decided on—"

"Elizabeth Winifred Kelly. Elizabeth Kelly to Wesley, if he asks." Cordelia smiled. "But we’re calling her Kelly."

"Kelly is going to be so touched," Melody insisted, sniffling a bit. 

"She’ll probably cry," Lisa agreed. "If she’s anything like the Kelly I remember…"

"So will Buffy," Giles added.

"Yeah, well, let’s keep it under wraps until we get back with her birth certificate and a clean bill of health," Cordelia said. Then, again, she turned to Wright and smiled softly. "You got another one to raise now. You better damn well make sure you come home in one piece."

"Ain’t leavin’ yet," Wright retorted. "Who knows? We might stay here the whole time."

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. "Yeah, right. Just be careful."

And with that, Giles, Melody, Gunn, and Lisa all took flank at Cordelia’s side and escorted her from the Hyperion, baby in tow.

*~*~*

"We know where Derek is," Willow offered as soon as Wright rejoined them in the garden.

A long, tired sigh rolled off the demon hunter’s shoulders. "I guess it was too much to hope for a little reprieve."

"We had a reprieve," Buffy pointed out dryly. "Cordy gave birth. Remember the screams?"

"Believe me, my incredibly sensitive vampire-ears remember them," Kelly observed.

"We’re trying to forget," Rosalie added. Then, before anyone else could intervene, she blurted, "Why in the world did we let Derek go if we were just going to track him?"

Wright rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

"I’m just saying, that seems like a fucking waste, if you ask me."

"Well, no one asked." Wright turned to Hunter, gesturing to his daughter. "Isn’t there something you can do?"

Hunter’s hands came up, his eyes wide. "I’m just the watcher."

"Yeah, well, tell her to cap it."

"You’re her father!"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Boys. Chill. Look, gotta say, I agree with the kid."

"Ha!" Rosalie looked particularly smug.

"But cap it," Faith continued, eyes narrowing. "That attitude gets real old real fast."

"Ha!" Wright and Hunter cried in unison.

"Never thought I’d live to see the day Faith tells someone not to be so cocky," Buffy murmured, but without malice. When the other slayer met her eyes, they shared a small, private grin. "That said, I do think it’s better if we get Derek here before he does any more damage. Just because he has nothing to bargain now doesn’t mean he won’t try." 

"Exactly," Rosalie said, as though that had been her reason for campaigning against Derek’s release all along.

"Right," Hunter agreed. "Melody has already been compromised. He promised Cordelia’s child without having a feasible way to reach her. There’s nothing stopping him from offering something even more valuable. A slayer’s soul, for starters."

At that, Buffy, Faith, and Rosalie all squirmed.

"Right," Spike said shortly. "So we get this git."

"Like we should have from the beginning," Rosalie murmured. 

Wright stepped forward, his eyes on Willow. "You know where he is?"

"And I can track him as he moves," she agreed with a nod. 

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "All right. My mess; I’ll fix it."

Rosalie rushed forward. "I’m going with you."

"No, you’re not," Hunter said quickly. "It’s too soon in your training—"

"Bite me, British," she spat, turning her gaze back to her father. "This is something we gotta do together."

Wright looked at her for a long second. And then, to everyone’s surprise, he said, "Yeah. She’s coming."

"What?" Hunter squawked. "After the fight you put up when she wanted to go face Zack—"

"That was different, and I was wrong. This ain’t her first rodeo," Wright explained dryly. "Nabbing daddy dearest isn’t exactly as death-defying as some of the other things she’s done since our guests arrive. Plus, I’m her father, so what I say goes."

Hunter stepped forward hurriedly. "If she goes, it’s as the Slayer, not as Rosalie Wright."

The other man shrugged. "Bonus." 

Faith flashed him a wide-grin. "Atta boy, daddy."

"Well," Hunter said, befuddled, "then I’m going, too."

"No," Wright replied. "You and Faith need to figure out something else to do with Wesley. We’re just grabbing Derek, not killing him, and we need a place to stash him until we figure out what we want to do."

The younger man’s brows perked. "And that’s a two person job?"

"I’m making it one. My hotel, my rules. Deal with it." He turned to Buffy and Spike. "Wes isn’t in the best mood, particularly about…umm…" 

Spike grunted and Buffy looked down. Neither said a thing. 

"And Kelly has her kids," Wright concluded.

Hunter frowned. "What about Willow?"

"She’s going to be keeping me posted if Derek moves. Pay attention!"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Look, Wright, I can handle Wes on my own."

"I have no doubt," Wright replied gravely. "That’s why I want Poindexter with you. Wes might be a bastard now, but eventually he’ll back to himself…it’ll take a long time, but he will be back. And when he is back, I’d like him to have use of his limbs and all his teeth in the proper place."

There was a confused pause during which everyone exchanged glances except for the brunette slayer and the demon hunter. No one else had yet ventured downstairs to confront Wesley, therefore the former watcher’s hateful bitterness was only known to them. It wasn’t something upon which either wanted to dwell, but similarly, they understood each other in ways no one else could fathom at the moment. 

"Yeah, okay," Faith agreed at last. "Nick and I’ll handle that together."

There wasn’t any further discussion.

At that moment, it was unneeded.

*~*~*

The events of the past few hours had helped distract her thoughts from a darker place, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, Buffy couldn’t help but fall back into the place she’d been when Kelly discovered her in the lobby. While Cordelia had been in labor, conversing with the other men in the hotel had been essential—particularly Wright, who she couldn’t punish for having Zack’s face, even if it was more difficult looking at him than anyone else right now. The only man who failed to make her feel exposed and vulnerable was Spike, but then she would have expected nothing else from him. 

God, what she wouldn’t do to fast-forward past the healing. Right now she was lost in the black area where it didn’t seem anything would make the hurt go away, even if she knew time healed all wounds. Eventually she would be able to smile again and mean it. Eventually…

Right now, though, she was antsy. She wanted to move. She wanted…

Closure.

She wanted closure. And closure was the one thing she could have. The one thing not denied to her.

Spike wouldn’t like it; he might understand, but he wouldn’t like it. So she wouldn’t tell him.

This was one of the things she needed to do alone, if she ever wanted to feel normal again.

*~*~*

"It was Wesley, wasn’t it?" 

Faith didn’t look up from her sneakers. "Damn double-knots," she muttered, leaning over further. She had one leg hoisted on the arm of the lobby sofa, fingers deftly retying her laces. 

"You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not other people." 

"Bite me, Nick." 

Hunter smiled dryly. "I imagine I will before the night’s over," he replied cheekily. His face fell when she didn’t crack a smile. "Wright wasn’t exactly speaking in code, you know," he continued. "Wesley said something to you." 

Faith shrugged, kicking her leg off the sofa. "I’ve known Wes for years, Nick. He’s said many things to me." 

"He just lost the woman he loves." 

Her brows perked. "Really? You don’t say." 

"Faith, whatever he said—" 

She paused shortly, holding up a hand, her brown eyes flashing. "Can we just lay off? I just wanna get this thing over with." 

Hunter blinked and moved aside, waving an arm. "Ladies first." 

Her upper lip curled, an obvious retort pushing for freedom; she somehow managed to clamp down, nodding and moving on across the floor toward the basement. 

The scene was relatively unchanged, save for the angry purple bruise adorned across Wesley’s face. It was only visible for a minute—the door swung open and closed again, and though the glance was fleeting, Hunter’s eyes caught it just the same. He appraised Faith with a long, speculative look. "Your handiwork?" 

Faith inclined her head. "If I’d hit him, I’d’ve broken his fucking jaw." 

That solidified it. Wesley was definitely the cause.

For his part, Wesley merely inclined his head, his eyes twinkling. "Faith. Nicholas. Two fuck-ups for the price of one. I must have won the lottery." 

Hunter’s eyes went wide. "What did I do?" 

"From the looks of things, Faith." 

Faith rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You just keep sweet-talkin’ me, Wes. People’ll think we’re in love." She sighed and nodded to the stairs. "We can do this the hard way or the not-so-hard way. The hard way features me roughin’ you up, and since you’re on my shit-list, that’d be the one to avoid. You gonna play nice or are you gonna make me give you a cracked rib to go with that bruise on your chin?" 

"You’ve decided to let me out? My oh my, wonder of wonders." 

"Wright and Rosalie went to capture Derek Morris," Hunter explained. "We’re going to hold him here until we decide what should be done with him." 

Wesley’s eyes rolled up. "Ah. So we’re here now. The lot of you scrambling around trying to pick up the pieces. Are you trying to score brownie points, Faith? Think they’ll show their gratitude if you take the—" 

She inhaled sharply and shook her head. "Shut up." 

"I don’t—" 

"Shut. The fuck. Up." 

"Oh dear. Did I strike a nerve?" 

Faith’s jaw tightened, shaking her head. "That’s it," she said shortly, kicking the cage open without further ado. There was a flurry of movement, but nothing could remove her eyes from the prize. In seconds she had Wesley’s arms twisted behind his back, steadfastly ignoring the pained growl rumbling through his lips or the way his body contorted and struggled. "We’re going outside for a little chat." 

*~*~* 

It hadn’t been too long, but long enough to have him concerned. Buffy wasn’t in their room. She wasn’t in one of the training rooms or in the garden, either. She was nowhere. And while he knew it was absurd to worry about her, Spike had no way of shutting off his panic. It had been damn near impossible before—now, with what had happened—he went into over-drive with the simplest suggestion. 

Spike made his way downstairs, his wide, panicked eyes fastening on Kelly, who sat reading on one of the couches. "Have you seen Buffy?" he asked. 

She glanced up, eyes wide. "What?" 

"Buffy. I can’t find her anywhere."

Kelly frowned and placed her book over her lap. "Did you look—" 

"Yes." 

"And in the—" 

"Yes." 

"What about—" 

He rolled his eyes. "I said I can’t find her anywhere, Kelly. Figure I’d take those words seriously." 

"Well, I just wanted to make sure." She frowned. "It’s not like her just to wander off." 

Spike paused and favored Kelly with an arched brow. 

"Okay," she agreed. "It’s exactly like Buffy to wander off." 

"She’s a bloody pistol. Doesn’t wait for permission." Spike sighed heavily and shook his head. "I just can’t figure it. Not with what happened…she wouldn’t…" 

Only he knew better than that. So did Kelly. One never said never when it came to Buffy. She got something in her head and she did it. It was just the way she was…and no amount of anything could ever change that. 

Ever. 

And just like that, he knew where to find her. 

They both did. 

*~*~*

Good thing she didn’t care that she was going to Hell, else she might have felt a smidgeon of regret for the harsh way Wesley crashed against the hard stone walkway. As it was, Faith could barely keep in her satisfied smirk.

"Wanna say something, Wes?" she offered. "Feel free."

"Unfeeling cunt," he spat, blood splashing across the pavement.

Faith shrugged. "Except that," she retorted, kicking him swiftly in the gut. "You only get one of those, and it’s already used up."

"I’ll tear you apart."

"Oooh." She waved her hands. "Real scary. Wanna try making it onto two feet before you start with the threats?"

Wesley sputtered something unintelligible but decidedly impolite. "It should have been you," he sputtered, staggering forward, wild eyes blazing with rage. "It should have been you, you filthy whore."

Faith shrugged and popped him in the eye. "Yeah, well," she said, "that’s what you get for fucking an idiot."

"I’ll kill you," Wesley said decidedly, lunging forward only to be punched back to the ground. "You don’t know what I had."

Faith threw her arms in the air. "You’re right," she said. "I don’t. I don’t got the first idea of what you had. And you know what? _I don’t care._ I don’t give a shit what you had. I don’t care that you just lost your girlfriend, or that you’re out of your mind with anger. I don’t care. _I don’t give a shit that Fred died_. But no one fucking talks to me the way you did. No one."

"Bitch," Wesley snapped again.

"And, for the record, I know she was a rocket scientist or some shit, but was she…you know…special?" Faith frowned and pointed at her cranium. "In the head?"

Everything froze. The air stilled and the cars in the distance rumbled to a quiet. There was nothing but Wesley’s glare, the mad, murderous fury warping his features until he resembled nothing human. Until he became just another monster.

Another monster in her world.

"What?" he rasped.

She shrugged again. "Face it, Boss," she retorted. "Fred might’ve been a brainiac, but she didn’t have enough wits about her not to walk into the arms of the dangerous vampire."

"I’ll rip you apart."

"You don’t have the stones."

"You weren’t fit to spit on her shoes."

Faith smirked. "Yeah, well, I’m still here. I look where I walk."

Wesley snarled again and took a wild swing, which the Slayer easily dodged. "Bitch!" he spat. "She was a thousand times the woman you were."

"Still alive, though, which is more than I can say for your dumbass fiancée."

A throat cleared from behind. Faith didn’t bother turning around; she knew who was there. The only feasible person who would have followed her.

"I don’t know if that is the best method of approach," Hunter offered.

She ignored him. It was best in these situations.

"Come on, Wes," she taunted instead. "Hit me!"

And he tried. She gave him that, he did try. He swung again and again, strokes becoming more and more desperate, more hurried, more of anything but what he was. And with every failed punch, a bit more of the former watcher chipped away. He kept screaming at her, hurling insults, calling her every name in the book and then some. And she just kept dodging. Kept provoking. Kept taunting. Watching as he deteriorated a bit more with each swing. As bits and pieces of the façade he’d built around himself chipped away. Until there was nothing but the tears scalding down Wesley’s cheeks and the hard sobs rocking through his chest.

"You can’t keep this up," Faith insisted, dodging another punch. "You’re not a bastard, Wes. You can try, but you don’t got the attitude. Not where it counts."

"I hate you," Wesley whimpered pitifully.

"Believe me. Memo gotten."

"It should have been you. _It should have been you!"_

"But it wasn’t," Faith replied, fire fading from her voice. She stood almost idly, dodging his swings when needed but making no ostensible move to defend herself. "She’s not here. She’s gone. All that’s here is me."

His face crumbled, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I hate you," he croaked. "I hate you."

"I know."

"I hate you."

Faith stepped forward, her anger dissipating even as she longed to hold onto it. The scene was too familiar. The despair on Wesley’s face akin to her own. She remembered this. God, she remembered it well. Pounding at Angel’s chest, begging him to kill her as rain poured from the heavens and her broken body pleaded for respite.

She’d wanted death. Wesley wanted it, too. Whether or not he asked, whether or not he even knew it, he wanted death. It was what he was asking for. What he wanted her to do.

He wanted her to send him into Fred’s ethereal arms.

"I hate you," Wesley whimpered again, at last collapsing to his knees before her. And before she could inhale, his arms had wrapped around her legs, his cheek resting against her belly. "Oh God, Faith…"

Every molecule in her body stilled. This she wasn’t expecting.

"Help me."

Movement from behind. Hunter was coming forward. Good. She didn’t know what to do.

She wasn’t the motherly type.

"It’s all right," she heard herself saying.

Hunter stopped beside her, his hand on her back. And Wesley broke into pieces.

"I’ll help," Faith whispered. "I’ll help."

*~*~*

There really was no word for what she was feeling.

Buffy shuddered and crossed her arms, mindful of traffic signs and crossways. She’d been walking with such force and determination when she left the Hyperion. There had been no doubt or second-guessing; there had been nothing but the fiercest determination to see this through and put it behind her once and for all. However, the closer to her objective she became, the more reluctant were her strides, and an icy grip of absolute fear was all of which she was aware.

Fear.

Buffy hadn’t felt fear in years. Well, okay, _lie_ , but definitely not this sort of fear. She’d been terrified when Spike went berserk before William was born, even more so after discovering her life up until a certain point was a lie, and a handful of other times, but not like this. Not since the days previous to being Chosen. Not since she was fifteen years old. Even then, she’d never thought of herself as helpless. She’d always been aware of her femininity; aware that it made her a prime target for sex-crimes and other unthinkables, but she’d maintained her that will never happen to me bubble well beyond discovering who she really was.

She hadn’t wanted to give Zack the satisfaction of knowing he’d awakened a part of herself she’d nearly forgotten. He’d made her feel vulnerable as a woman, and she didn’t want to face him. She didn’t want to relive that fear.

She didn’t want to, but she needed it. If she didn’t now, the path to recovery would always remain incomplete.

_Breathe, Buffy. Just breathe…okay, ignore the fact that you technically don’t have to breathe. And quit dragging your feet, already._

She expelled a deep breath, her eyes settling on her destination.

She felt him.

_She smelled him._

Small shivers sprouted across her skin, her stomach twisting in knots she didn’t know if she’d ever unravel. Buffy hadn’t vomited since well before she became a vampire, but for the first time in years, she felt the weight of what she’d eaten surging up her throat. Every molecule in her body protested. She did not want to be here.

But she had to be.

Buffy honestly had no conception of how she would react. She felt more fragile than she ever had in her life, making a complete breakdown the likeliest possibility…but then there was the other thing. The pure, unadulterated rage pumping hard and fast through her veins—the need to trade blood for blood, to pummel Zack until his outsides matched her insides. She knew Spike had nearly beaten him to dust—she knew the man she’d encounter would be an unrecognizable shell of who he’d once been.

She didn’t know how she would react. She had no idea.

Not until her feet crossed the threshold.

He felt her immediately; she knew he did. Everything fell deathly silent, and remained that way for a long minute. There was nothing at all at first. Nothing.

Her eyes set and fixed. The darkness parted and she saw him. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, his wounds sloppily if not efficiently patched. His eyes were wide, and she knew what he was thinking.

Remorse. Sadness. Shame. Pain. Self-loathing. Hatred.

All there. It was all there.

_Oh. God._

"Oh God," he croaked. "Buffy—"

And that was it. That was all she could stand. Her hands balled into fists and the world collapsed on itself. Fury strong enough to bulldoze mountains spilled from the tormented hole drilled by an unforgiving sadist, spilling into something black and ugly, and too powerful to tame. A hoarse cry tore through her throat, and she watched herself spiral forward, her feet furious, her fists tornadic, and everything else faded into a blur.

"You son of a bitch!" she sobbed, punching in his cheek. Her hands were moving too fast to keep up. She attacked him everywhere—every soft spot she could find, every tender wound in the midst of healing, everywhere she felt flesh, she hit. Kicked. Clawed. Punched. Screamed. "You _son of a bitch!"_

There was no resistance. Zack lay dormant and allowed it.

"Do you know what you did?"she shrieked. "Do you even care?!"

Blood spattered. Bones cracked. And he just took it.

_"You murdered me! You fucking murdered me!"_

In that instant, it was true. For the first time since her heart had stopped beating, Buffy Summers was dead.

All was left was the rage.

*~*~*

Derek Morris expelled a deep breath. He honestly hadn’t expected to make it this far, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be minus Melody. Even with everything that had happened, with everything she knew and even more that she didn’t, there hadn’t been a doubt in his mind that he could convince her to come with him. It wasn’t right without Melody. If he’d gotten her alone, perhaps, he could have persuaded her to see things his way. He could have made her realize every move he’d made, every decision—great or small—had been with her in mind. These were supposed to be their golden years, resting on a hillside of money procured from the sacrifices he’d made and the rituals he’d performed. Zack would be all right, as would Kelly and their kids. And the only evidence of his one indiscretion would be in the ground. That had always been the plan. Always. And even when things took a turn for the worse, he’d never imagined he’d be on the road by himself. In his mind, Melody was always with him.

He hadn’t prepared for Melody developing a backbone or a mind of her own. The past twenty-five years had been comprised of a series of yes dears and oh, I understands. Fuck, for as often as she’d turned a blind-eye, he’d half-convinced himself she knew all along what he was up to. How he was manipulating everything so they would enjoy the sunset of their life together.

No, he hadn’t prepared for Melody turning wise. He hadn’t been prepared to lose the first round with Wright, and he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to murder his grandchildren. These last few weeks were supposed to be it. God, everything had been so perfect. Everything. How had they lost everything so quickly?

By word of oracle, he’d learned Cordelia Chase, the whore, had given birth. The child was no longer pure, rather nestled comfortably in the arms of an attentive physician. Zack was bloody and broken in some alley, and Melody was locked away in a fortress of meddlers. And he, Derek Morris, fresh off a twenty-dollar purchase of low-effect black magic protection, was on the run for his life.

This was not what he’d planned. But, he supposed, things could definitely be worse. Lilah Morgan had certainly scared him shitless in her office, but now that he was on the highway and cruising eighty into a starless night, he allowed himself to breathe easy. Wolfram and Hart wanted his blood…well, they’d just have to find him first. The cheap mojo he’d procured in town would do to cover his tracks for a while, but soon he’d have to cash some stock and get the real good stuff. The stuff that would keep him off the radar for the rest of his life. And yeah, this wasn’t what he’d planned…but on the plus side, the horizon was the limit. No more hurried glances or phony alibis or panicked hours in a hotel room in Bora Bora searching for his forgotten wedding band. He could fuck who he wanted and not worry a damn about making sure to call the wife. That part of his life was over.

He was free.

And there was a girl in the middle of the highway.

Derek Morris blinked and, on instinct, hit the breaks.

*~*~*

The car jerked to a halt three inches away from colliding with her belly.

"Cut it a little fine there, didn’t you?" Wright called from the side of the road.

"Nothin’ like it," Rosalie replied cheerfully, slamming her hands onto the hood of Derek’s Honda civic. "Hey, Grandpa! Give us a hug!"

The raw fear in Derek’s eyes only provided a second of entertainment; too soon he was panicking and fumbling for the ignition…not that he got very far, thanks to the arrow Wright fired into his back tire. The car slumped and deflated.

"Oh God!" the old man cried, diving for the glove-compartment.

"Don’t be cruel, sweetie," Wright drawled, stepping onto the pavement. "You’ll give Gramps a heart-attack." It was an odd, crystal clear night. No cars coming to or from the city. As though the cosmos had aligned to bring them to this moment—as though the world itself wanted Derek dead as much as he did.

The car door flung open wildly without warning, and Derek stumbled out, a Colt .45 in hand. "This isn’t happening," he declared, setting his aim right between Rosalie’s eyes. He either hadn’t seen Wright or forgotten him in his haste, for he walked right by him without so much as a nod. And for Rosalie’s part, the girl didn’t bat an eye.

"Out of the way," Derek ordered.

"Yeah," Wright snapped, firing an arrow into his father’s left arm. "That’s a good idea." The gun clamored noisily to the pavement, but nothing could out-shine the fury of an old man’s panicked screams. His wide, bloodshot eyes gawked in horror at the bits of broken bone poking out through ripped, bloodied skin.

Wright didn’t blink, just stepped forward, reloaded, and fired another arrow into Derek’s foot. "I mean," he continued, "how fucking dumb do you have to be?"

"Pretty dumb," Rosalie agreed, dragging the gun off the ground.

"Kill my wife," Wright growled, shooting another arrow through Derek’s kneecap. "Butcher my child. Take my memories. Steal my brother’s soul. Kill my best friends. And, oh yeah, try to murder the woman I love and our child. Now you’re aiming a gun at my daughter?"

Rosalie let out a low whistle. "Bad move."

Wright nodded. "I’ll fuckin’ say."

"Not to mention I’m a slayer, and now I’m all pissed off."

"I would not want to be in your shoes," the demon hunter agreed, shaking his head and firing another arrow into his father’s shoulder.

Derek howled, collapsing pitifully to the ground. "Please!" he screamed, curling into a protective ball. "I’m sorry! God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY!"

Wright glanced up. "You hear that, honey?" he drawled. "He’s sorry."

Rosalie shrugged. "Wow. That’s a relief. Guess it’s all better, then."

They shared a grin just before her foot smashed against the back of Derek’s skull, knocking him out cold.

"Or, you know, maybe not."

*~*~*

"There’s blood."

"It’s Zack’s," Kelly said quickly. She didn’t know whether or not Spike would be able to tell the difference at this point. For as worried as he was, his judgment might be clouded, and the last thing anyone needed was another bloody encounter.

"It’s all over," he said, his tone somber. "Oh Buffy…"

"Buffy!"

The ghost in the middle of the street resembled anything but the Slayer. Her hands were drenched in red. Blood splattered her shirt, her face, dressed her arms, and ran streaks through her hair. Her eyes were drawn cold, haunted, rimmed with deep circles. She walked as though she didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there, though she stalled when she sensed them near. And when she looked up to meet Spike’s eyes, she looked so lost it was a wonder they recognized her at all.

Kelly had never seen Buffy like this. Never. And it terrified her.

"Oh…"

Spike moved like a bullet, collecting her quickly in his arms. "It’s all right, darling," he murmured, cradling her to his chest. "It’s all right."

"Is he dead?" Kelly asked, her eyes drawn back to the place where her husband’s scent remained.

"Kelly—"

"No, I have to—"

"He’s not dead."

Her voice startled them both.

"He’s not dead," Buffy said again, tired, though sounding enough like herself the picture she provided was even more frightening. "He’s not…" She met Spike’s eyes, then tore herself away again, shuddering hard.

"Doesn’t matter, love," Spike whispered, turning back toward the Hyperion. Back toward home. "It doesn’t matter anymore."

Kelly didn’t follow, rather stood still on the street. To the east was home. To the west, just a few yards away, lay her husband.

Zack.

And for the longest minute, for the first time in days, she didn’t know which way to turn.


	36. Chapter 36

It didn’t take long for the morphine and exhaustion to fully kick in. She knew they were still vulnerable. The reaches of Wolfram and Hart went far beyond infiltrating the hospital security, but she took solace in the knowledge that somewhere Derek Morris was in bigger trouble than she should be.

She didn’t know how long she slept. Cordelia slowly fluttered her eyes open to find Melody asleep in a chair beside her bed. She smiled as she watched her slumped over with a hand gripping the bed’s rails. It was where her mother should sit. But instead she was comforted that a mother was there. Someone who could help her now that she was completely out of her element.

Ruffling the sheets as she tried to straighten herself up, Melody woke up with a start. "Cordelia!" She immediately jumped from the chair and rushed to help the young woman.

"Thank you," the brunette purred as she found comfort once again. Reaching over to hit the morphine button, she asked, "Any news?"

"Rupert and Gunn are down at the cafeteria. Little Kelly is doing perfect."

"And Derek?" Her speech was already starting to slur.

"Nothing, yet." Melody squeezed Codelia’s hand gently. "But, you need to rest now, baby."

And that was the last words spoken as the new mother slipped back away from reality.

*~*~*

He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Being knocked unconscious or passing out in Faith’s arms really didn’t qualify. Not that he slept well on the best of nights, but the past few days had began to wear on his mortal bones. Sparring with a new slayer hadn’t helped.

He cleaned out the dungeon for the newest prisoner. Knowing that Wesley was upstairs and likely asleep was a relief. Faith was slowly calming down, too. He prayed she didn’t need physical solace tonight. He just wanted to sleep.

As he sat down in a random chair to wait, his body battled with his anxious nerves. Rosalie was still out there. Vulnerable more than she knew. Wright was with her, but Wolfram and Hart was not to be trifled.

He didn’t know how long he was out, but he awoke with the slamming of the dungeon door. His eyes fluttered open to see the return of his slayer and the look of satisfaction as she glared at her grandfather lying unconscious on the floor before her.

"Success I see," Hunter groggily commented.

"Did you expect any less?" Rosalie quipped as her eyes turned to his.

"Never." He slowly pulled himself up from the chair and looked to Wright. "Was there any trouble?"

He shook his head. "Any news on Cordelia?"

"No, but since the resident vampires are gone I’m thinking she’s well protected."

"And Wesley?"

"I believe he is under control. For the time being."

Wright nodded. "Then I’m going to the hospital."

"Me too," Rosalie stated.

"You’re staying right here." There was no tone for negotiation in his voice. "You and Faith will be able to handle things here until I can get you backup."

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest. Hunter thought he saw the same exhaustion flicker in her eyes before she turned to glare once more at the dungeon floor. "Fine."

Hunter and Wright shared a brief look before the elder man turned and walked up the stairs. Then, knowing it would do nothing but provoke a fight, he turned to his slayer. "You know, you probably should try to get a little rest."

"You know, you look like death on a Triscuit."

"Yeah, but I wear it well." He sighed. "Seriously, I’m sure Willow can easily devise a spell to inform us if anyone enters."

She looked back at her grandfather one last time. "Maybe."

They silently walked upstairs to the first floor. The house was eerily quiet with so many of the residents removed. "So, any plans tonight?" Rosalie asked absently as she headed to the kitchen.

"I was thinking I would take a shower and patrol awhile. You?"

"I figured you’d be fucking Faith some more."

"My God, Rosalie," he flinched. "Can you be a little less crude?"

"Could you two be any louder?"

"I hope you stop hating me at some point because I don’t know how long I can take this."

She stopped and turned around. "I don’t hate you." There was a child-like innocence in her voice.

Hunter snorted. "Coulda bloody well fooled me." He rolled his eyes as he went to grab a glass from the cupboard. "Pretty sure I’m on the list of top five disliked people in Los Angeles."

"I just…" She looked down at the ground. "Well, you’ve got Faith."

He eyed her dubiously. "I believe she likely loathes me more than you. We’re friends. If even that."

"With benefits."

"With benefits."

The silence was long and awkward. Hunter drank a glass of water before turning to find Willow. As he approached the doorway, he heard "I really don’t hate you, Nick."

He didn’t know what to say so he just kept walking.

*~*~*

She could smell him. He was everywhere. His blood and scent covered Buffy, but his proximity was what drove her wild. Her senses could feel him. Could feel his soul. And for once in her life she was utterly lost. She didn’t know what to do.

Before she could control herself, she was walking toward the building. She couldn’t seem to control herself. Her demon was calling the shots and though she could feel Spike and Buffy calling her back, she didn’t care.

He was close. So close. And as she reached the door, her lost confusion continued to drive her forward. She knew he felt her, just as she felt him. She felt his pain, despair and horror. And she wanted him to feel hers. To feel the pain he had caused her. To feel the lives he had ruined. She had seen so much death. So much pain. And she wasn’t sure if she could live with it.

She wasn’t sure if she could live with him.

She stepped in the darkness. She knew he was just around the corner. She knew he heard her enter. She still could smell Darla and Faith, faintly in the air. She could smell Buffy and Lisa and other women, too.

And as she closed her eyes the images hit her like a ton of bricks. The bodies lying in front of the Hyperion. Fred’s body lying on the floor. Naked Buffy wearing nothing but blood and fear. Rosalie’s bloodshot eyes. William’s bruised neck.

She fell to the ground. Sobs escaping into the empty warehouse. And another piece of her soul died with the knowledge she may never be able to look at her husband again.

*~*~*

He heard her. He smelt her tears. And even if he could move, he couldn’t face her. Tears poured from his own eyes as he knew he was the cause of all her pain. More than once he almost called her name. He wanted to plead with her to leave. Leave or kill him. Anything to pretend that Kelly wasn’t dying inside.

His bloodied eyes scanned the ground within his reach. He was hopeful that Buffy had dropped anything with which he could impale his broken heart. There was a broken piece of wood two feet away. It looked to be a deteriorating part of the building’s frame. He wanted nothing more than to grab it and end his undead existence. For Kelly to sense his dusting and know that everything was going to be okay. She could raise Rosie and William and someday remind them that their father hadn’t always been a device of evil.

But he was too broken to move. His body was too shattered to move that far. He knew every bone inside was broke. Many more than once. And his arms were shattered. Buffy had undone all the healing that Lisa had begun.

So he laid there in agony and silently cried as he wished his wife away.

*~*~*

Hunter had hit the point of exhaustion. After a brief chat with Willow, he went upstairs to one of the many vacant rooms and claimed one for himself. Then, after a hot shower he dragged himself to bed, not having the heart to put on anything from his dirty belongings. Without even bothering to crawl under the covers, he flopped onto the mattress and closed his eyes.

He didn’t expect her. He certainly didn’t expect her to come in wearing nothing but a shear white chemise. His reaction time was slower than usual so all he could do was squeak out "Rosalie!"

She giggled softly and approached him. As he went to grab for cover to his naked body she gently took his hands and pulled herself closer. "W-What are you doing?" he stuttered.

"I don’t hate you," was all she said before she bent down and gave him the sweetest lips he had ever tasted. She was so soft. So perfect. And her kiss was certainly devised by the gods.

Then her hands began to wander. And as much as he wanted to continue, he knew they couldn’t. He was her Watcher. She was his Slayer. This just didn’t happen. "Rosalie. We can’t."

"Shhh…" she whispered as she began to kiss a trail from his neck downward. "I don’t hate you."

"Well you don’t have to prove it, love."

"Do you want me to stop?" She never looked up but continued to kiss a trail down his torso.

And he knew his undoing. She was his biggest temptation. "No."

And then she engulfed him. First with her hands and then with her mouth. And he thought he had died and gone to heaven. As he gently ran his fingers through her blonde tresses, he urged her on. He did so until her couldn’t contain himself anymore and with a strangled cry, he released himself and felt her suck him even harder.

"Bloody hell!" Hunter cried as his eyes flew open. Faith was now standing over him, apparently prepared to slap him once more. He looked around desperately for any sign of Rosalie. That was when it dawned on him: he had been dreaming.

"Well thanks a lot," Faith snapped. "What are you, twelve? I thought you’d outgrown the wet dream phase of life."

He looked down in embarrassment. Well, at least one part of his dream had been real. Embarrassed, he quickly grabbed the edge of the comforter for protection. "Look, I’m just kinda tired."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Well, if your dick is limp now, what are you good for?"

Hunter’s eyes darkened. While it may have just been a tease, the mark hit a little to close to the heart. "At one point I thought maybe a friend. Or at least as a human being that in some capacity understands."

"Don’t start getting all hot and bothered." She smirked. "Unless that’s what you need to get ready for another round. This time with the real thing."

"Get out," he growled lowly. "Faith, I’m not just going to be another dick for you to ride. Go to the club for that. Maybe you don’t need anybody in that delusional little head of yours, but I need a friend or two right now. And if I can’t bloody well count on you, then I need to find someone before I completely lose it. So go find someone else to thrill you, chill you and fulfill you."

He had no idea what was going through her find as she turned and walked out. Likely, she was seething and plotting some plan to avenge her rejection. As he tried to drift back to sleep, he prepared for all the embarrassing bits of his personal life she was likely to reveal about him in the morning.

He could really use a friend about now.

*~*~*

The night was dark and still as they lay beside one another. After arriving back in D.C., Josh immediately called the President to apologize for their abrupt departure. President Santos had been briefed by the Department of Defense concerning the situation and was relieved to know that they were safe and that the situation had been taken care of.

From there, neither Josh nor Donna had the strength to return to the White House and get back to work. They headed to Josh’s apartment, where they showered and fell asleep. Upon waking up early in the evening, the couple experimented with a few of their purchases from California. Then, as evening turned into night, the couple laid in the darkness and tried to comprehend the past few days.

"I’m thinking about quitting the White House," Donna said suddenly.

"What?"

"Yeah. I think I have a pretty good plan, too."

"Can I just call your plan delusional now and then we can go to sleep?"

Like always, she ignored him. "First of all, if I quit working for the First Lady we can go public with our engagement. We can get married and then start working on a family before you hit retirement."

"Very funny."

"But I have a second and better reason."

"I’m sure," he said skeptically.

"Washington D.C. has always had a high crime rate with a large number of unsolved assaults and murders."

"You’re going to become a detective?"

"My theory is a great number of those likely dealt with demonic activity."

"You’re going to be a demon detective?"

"Did you see me? With a few more extensive magic lessons and a bit more formal training with the weaponry—"

"You want to be a demon hunter?" He looked at her in horror. "See, I just asked if I could call you delusional and get this over with."

"You have to admit that it’s generally a great idea."

"I have to admit that now I’m questioning myself when I thought you were my better half."

"I’m going to talk to Willow and Giles about it."

"Good. When they call you delusional, maybe you’ll believe it."

"Then we can get married."

"Then you can get yourself killed."

"We can finally have a baby."

"And some demon can eat our baby."

"We can be happy together."

"Until someone kills you and eats the baby."

"And I can begin to focus on Sam and his presidential career."

He sighed and rolled over. He really hated when she added something he couldn’t argue with. 

*~*~*

Faith honestly didn't know who she was angrier with—Hunter or herself—but for the moment it made her feel better to call Hunter an asshole for not understanding her. Not that she was particularly complex. Oh no. Hunter had her pegged. Give her a cigarette to smoke and a cock to ride and she was fucking set. 

A twisted curse tore through her lips and before she could stop herself, she'd pounded a furious fist through the hallway wall. Plaster dust billowed and her hand hurt like a bitch, but she didn't care. 

No, Faith didn't care about anything at all. 

She supposed she couldn't be totally pissed with the boy; fuck, she wasn't one to be upfront with her emotions, namely because she liked to pretend she didn't have any, but with her confrontation with Wesley especially fresh in her mind, she needed…well, she didn't know, but a goddamn something. 

The words she ended up speaking inevitably worked against her. In all honesty, she hadn't wanted a fuck when she barged in on Nick. Granted, she would have ridden him good if he'd offered, but it hadn't been what she was after. She hadn't known what she wanted, but…something. She and Nick weren't bestest buds, by any means, but after the day she'd had she wanted to think she was worth something to someone. Worth something to anyone. 

Perhaps her first instinct was the best one. It would be best if she went back to England. Wesley would deal…he wouldn't be any fun to be around, granted, but he'd deal. What, exactly, did he need her for, anyway? Moral support? Life coach? Yeah right. Hunter had made it perfectly clear he could handle Rosalie on her own, and Rosalie…well, she was headstrong and bitchy, which was likely the reason why she liked Faith to begin with. In that instance, Faith's influence on the girl was definitely negative. She'd be better off with a more stable role model.

Still, as hot as she was, Faith felt the need to stop outside Wesley’s room to check-in. It was the polite thing to do.

"Hey," she said quickly, rasping on the door. "I’m heading out. You all right in there?"

There was nothing for a long minute; then, finally, a choked voice managed to convey, "Thank you, I’m fine. I just need to rest."

"Fair enough. Later, Wes."

Faith turned on her heel and practically tore down the hallway and down the stairs. The Hyperion lobby was empty, as she’d suspected it would be. Spike and Buffy were gone and the other vamp had taken off, too. Wright was holed up at the hospital with Cordy and the new kid, and Giles and Gunn had yet to return. The younger kids were upstairs with Rosalie, who apparently had been nominated the backup nanny whenever the other adults were out of the picture.

That only left Willow, who had been moping around ever since Studly and his friends took off for the Capitol. And perhaps it was one of those strange happenstances that aligned the universe together for a blink—the sort where a person in one’s thoughts suddenly manifests, for just as Faith’s feet hit the lobby floor, she caught sight of the witch’s red hair behind the check-in counter.

Perfect.

"Yo, Red."

Willow looked up in surprise, glancing around the room hurriedly as though there was a possibility she wasn’t the one being addressed. "Oh…hi Faith," she said, almost nervously. "I was…umm…looking for something to eat. Midnight munchies and all that. What’s up?"

"When are you heading back to England?"

Willow’s eyes went wide. "Uh…not sure. Sometime when…I head back. Why? I heard you were—"

"Coming with. Nothin’ keeping me here. Might as well go back to being the Council’s bitch." Faith shrugged a shoulder and heaved a sigh. "Just get me a ticket on whatever flight you’re taking."

The redhead’s brow furrowed. "I don’t think I’m taking a plane, Faith…"

"Look, just set it up, all right? I can’t fucking take it here much longer."

"You what?"

That wasn’t Willow. Faith’s eyes fell shut and her shoulders slumped, her body twisting to face the young slayer who stood with a look of mixed horror and betrayal waiting behind. There were a lot of things Faith could take; she could talk tough and make like stone, but when push came to shove, she wasn’t one to enjoy making people squirm. Not like that, anyway; not anymore. And she liked Rosalie. She really did. The kid had something a lot of kids didn’t. But she didn’t need people like Faith in her life. She had enough of that where Wright was concerned.

Still, it didn’t make looking Rosalie in the eye any easier. Faith wasn’t one to make the puppy eyes and beg people to understand, and while she wasn’t about to start now, a part of her fell when she took in the expression on the young girl’s face.

Then she remembered what Nick had said, and the walls flew back into place.

No one ever bothered to dig deeper. And whether or not that was Faith’s fault was, at the moment, unimportant. It was fucking obvious to her; why the hell wasn’t it to others? Comfort was something she didn’t take in stride, and she would rather cut off her hand than ask for help, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take help if it was offered. That didn’t mean she didn’t want a sympathetic shoulder or an ear or anything else remotely human, just because she wasn’t such a fucking girl about it. And she wasn’t—there were parts of her that were all woman, all the time, and other parts—the emotional parts—that she never shared with anyone.

Share and get hurt. Sex was easier, which was why she offered it. Get close without getting attached. Feel intimacy without having to share it. That wasn’t always what she wanted when she came to someone, but since it was rarely turned down she didn’t dig any deeper for the long talks. Just once, she wished someone would see that part of her so she wouldn’t feel so cut off…see it without her having to divulge, so she likewise wouldn’t be vulnerable.

If someone saw her…

Faith shook her head, her jaw hardening. "Yeah," she said shortly, shoving emotion aside. This was why she didn’t get involved. People let her down. No one ever bothered to pick her apart. They saw what she wanted them to see without trying to investigate what was under the armor, and if they didn’t bother to look she wasn’t going to bother with them. Period. "You guys got no use for me, so—"

"What about Wesley?" Rosalie countered heatedly. "I thought—"

"What? Wes needs a savior? I look like a savior to you?"

"He needs a friend."

"I’m no one’s friend, kiddo," Faith retorted, brushing past her. "Sooner you accept that, the happier everyone’ll be."

"What about Nick?"

"He only needs me when he needs somewhere to stick his dick, but he’d rather have you for that, anyhow." Faith laughed at the shocked look that befell Rosalie’s features, shaking her head again and turning away. "Yeah. Go ride that pony. Make your daddy real happy. I’m outta here."

She strolled out the doors without another word, leaving Rosalie and Willow speechless.

*~*~*

Up until an hour ago, Buffy truly had no grasp of the word cathartic.

It was strange how time moved, how she could feel so strongly one way—feel such black, twisted, ugly hatred—and then, after almost no time at all, feel nothing but peace. It was as though the last few days hadn’t happened. As though she was still the person she’d been before they found Faith’s body in the alley. As though reliving the horrors of the past in person had been nothing but a horrible nightmare.

She’d never had closure before. Angelus hadn’t gotten his for the things he’d done to her, nor had she been able to confront Angel, during the brief periods in which he was Angel, to wrangle a well-deserved apology for his crimes. That had been at her doing before—she hadn’t wanted to see Angel, and rightly so, but in doing that she’d likewise constructed a barrier between the Self that lived and the Self that suffered. She hadn’t been able to move on—truly move on—because of it.

Until now.

She honestly didn’t know what was different about life this time around. Perhaps it was because she was much closer to Zack than she’d ever been to Angel. They’d been friends before. Allies. Family. She and Angel, even at the height of their love affair, had never been friends. She’d never trusted Angel as she’d come to trust Zack over the years, and she certainly hadn’t loved him as an individual as she’d loved Zack. It probably also helped that she didn’t have to see Angel’s twin every day, but cosmetics had less to do with her pain than the deep sense of betrayal she’d suffered the second she opened her eyes and saw Zack’s face.

He was her friend, and he’d hurt her. And tonight she had his blood on her hands because she’d hurt him back.

She’d traded blood for blood, and she felt…cleansed.

She felt whole like she hadn’t in a long, long time.

Perhaps this meant there was a chance for normalcy after all. While she wasn’t a fan of the idea of bringing Zack back into the picture anytime soon, the path to healing began with a first step. It could be she would never be able to look at him—it could be Spike would never forgive him, or Kelly wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye for the rest of eternity. It could be that Zack would never forgive Buffy for the brutality she’d just unleashed. After all, he was soulful now, and the monster behind the murders, rapes, mutilations, and horror had been shoved back inside. She had punished the Zack she wanted to punish…but then, there wouldn’t have been any closure in that.

Punishing a soulless Zack wouldn’t have mattered, because he couldn’t feel. For what Zack had done to her, to her friends, she wanted him to feel. More than the pain he’d experience as her fists pummeled his body, she wanted him to feel the weight of every tear, every sob, every inner rip of the fabric that made her Buffy. She wanted his soul to break, because without that recognition, they would be nowhere.

And now she had it. Closure. The dignity he’d shattered had mended. She’d earned her place.

Kelly, however, still had to earn hers.

"Buffy?"

Buffy’s tired eyes were fixed on her bloodied hands. It took a few seconds to realize her name had been said. When she looked up, she found herself lost in eyes that knew her better than she knew herself, and, for the first time, felt like she was home. "I’m all right," she told him softly, smiling a half-smile. "I just…I couldn’t take it in there anymore. I had to let it out."

Spike nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I know, kitten," he whispered in soft reply. "I just wish you’d told me."

She snorted. "Yeah. Like there’s any chance you would’ve been all right with this."

"All right with you beatin’ the stuffing outta the man who raped you?" Spike’s brows perked, even as his muscles tensed and his shoulders drew back. Those weren’t words he said lightly, though he understood her even if he hadn’t reached the same conclusion. "I think I would’ve been all right."

"Fat chance."

He smirked. "Even so, doubt I could’ve stopped you, anyhow. You’re stronger than me, remember?" He smiled at her a minute longer before raising his eyes to the warehouse entrance. Kelly had yet to emerge. "Think I should—"

"No."

He looked at her. "No?"

"Kelly needs to walk out of there on her own," Buffy said, turning back to the warehouse. The air was cold, but she didn’t feel cold. She felt nothing but…peace. "Like I did."

There was nothing to say—nothing Spike could have said that would have made any difference. So he just nodded and pulled his mate into his side, brushing his lips across her brow.

And they waited.

*~*~*

With Wright sitting vigilant at Cordelia’s bedside, there seemed little reason to keep everyone at the hospital, particularly with a young slayer and two small children back at the Hyperion. Wright trusted Spike and Buffy to keep things under wraps…most of the time; with what had happened recently—with the way Buffy couldn’t look at anyone, least of all him, anymore, he figured it would be best if Gunn returned to make sure the fort was well and held. As it was, no one aside from Giles and Melody was getting anywhere near Cordelia while there was air in his body.

Well, perhaps he’d make an exception for the occasional doctor.

Likewise, with Derek Morris unconscious in the cage, he wasn’t too comfortable letting Rosalie—slayer or not—traipsing around the hotel unsupervised. Faith could likely keep her in line when Faith wasn’t riding Hunter…but that was too much to ask. Besides, it wasn’t Derek that troubled Wright…

It was Wolfram and Hart.

It was for these reasons he sent Gunn back to the hotel. Entirely different reasons motivated his sending Lisa with Gunn…namely, the bitch annoyed the shit out of him.

If trouble came knocking Cordelia’s door, he was covered. Wright had the strength, Giles had the books, and Melody was too much a goddamn grandma to let anything come between her and the new mother. Something told Wright the old lady had fight in her beyond everyone’s expectations.

So he sat and waited. He held his daughter. He grasped Cordelia’s hand.

And waited.

*~*~*

After kicking Faith out of his room, Hunter had honestly not expected his slumber to be interrupted again. And he certainly hadn’t expected to find himself tossed on his arse onto the floor by an exceptionally brassed-off Rosalie. For a second, he wondered if this was another wet-dream.

No. Those eyes were too fuck you for this to be a fantasy…unless his issues ran deeper than he thought.

Well, so much for, I don’t hate you, Hunter.

"What the bugger…" Hunter groaned, rising to his feet. "What do you want?"

"I want to know what the fuck you did to Faith."

He blinked dumbly. "Faith?" he repeated. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"She’s gone, Nick."

He batted a dismissive hand. "Pish posh. She’ll be back."

"No, I mean gone. As in she’s leaving. I heard her setting it up with Willow, and then she…" Rosalie’s eyes darted away, a warm blush tinting her cheeks. It was brief, but long enough to be noticeable; long enough for Hunter to wonder what other damage Faith had done. "It’s serious this time."

"She bloody well can’t leave," Hunter argued, cringing as he tried to chase away what little sleep had fogged his mind. "She promised Wesley…"

"Yeah, well, she seems to think…" Rosalie trailed off again, shaking her head and straightening her shoulders. "What did you do to her?"

"I didn’t do a goddamn thing!" he replied heatedly. "She came in here to shag me. I told her to bugger off. My sodding apologies if that’s a crime, but I wasn’t up to feeling used for my prick. Didn’t bloody realize one of my duties was to fuck the resident slayer whenever she got an itch, and wasn’t it you who was complaining about how loud we are? I’m a sodding human being, too, Rosalie. But fine. You’re right. Next time Faith has an itch, I’ll make sure I’m there to scratch it. I wouldn’t want her to feel ignored, after all."

Rosalie’s face fell, the blush surging back to life again, only this time with more blatantly noticeable embarrassment. As though she’d just realized something, and that particularly something put her in a not-so-flattering light. "Oh," she said, softer. "So…you didn’t have sex with her?"

"No, and if that’s her problem, then fuck her. Only…don’t." Hunter’s brow furrowed. "I’m not going to be a live blow-up doll for her. If she can’t handle rejection like a big girl, maybe she should go back to London."

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you were friends."

Hunter laughed shortly. "Faith has made it bloody clear to me…she doesn’t need friendship, least of all from me. I don’t want her to go, Rosalie, but I can’t just be there to jump whenever she commands it. I have a life, too."

Rosalie shifted her weight from one leg to the other. It was identifiably a nervous tick. "Do you think," she said, her voice even softer. "Do you think it’s possible she has feelings for you?"

A pause. He balked, choking back a laugh. "No."

"Just no? How do you—"

"We’re…well, I don’t know what, but I’m not her type…aside from being male. No, Rosalie, she doesn’t have feelings for me."

"Then why would she…God, nothing makes sense. She just took off outta here like a bat outta Hell, said some…" Rosalie’s eyes darted around the room nervously again. "Stuff. And…if it’s because you said no to sex, and…I just don’t get why…"

"Faith’s not a person with many whys," Hunter replied. "She does what she does in order to feel…better."

Feel better…

Rosalie inhaled a deep breath, throwing her hands in the air. "Well…sorry for, you know, barging in and kicking you out of bed." Her eyes fell to his crotch. "Oh, by the way, nice penis."

Hunter flushed and seized a pillow. "Bloody hell!"

She smirked. "That’s what keeps Faith screaming?"

"I-I…I don’t think this is appropriate."

"Why were you sleeping naked if you weren’t expecting a booty call?"

"I don’t think that’s appropriate, either." He looked away nervously. "Perhaps you should…go."

Rosalie giggled a very girlish giggle—a giggle that so should not have made his cock stir but stir it did. Christ, he was one sick bloke. "I just thought…I don’t know what I thought," she said. "But I don’t want Faith to leave."

Hunter shook his head, trying very hard not to make it obvious that staring at her was giving him a hard-on. I’m depraved. "I don’t, either," he agreed. "I’ll…I’ll try to talk to her."

"Do. Because she…she’s my friend." Rosalie glanced down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I need some…girl friends right now, you know?"

He nodded wildly. He could use a girl friend at the moment, himself.

"Rosalie," he said, "I’ll take care of it. Now, please…get out."

Her eyes widened.

"We just shouldn’t talk when I’m so…" He wiggled. "Naked."

"Oh. Oh, right." She blushed again, turning to leave. "Thanks, Nick."

And with that soft utterance, he had something new to wank about.

*~*~*

Perhaps this was how Buffy had felt in the aftermath. Kelly didn’t know. She walked without feeling, without even realizing her feet were moving. She knew where she was and where she was going—knew because Buffy, her mother, her daughter, her sister, her dearest friend, was at her side. There was unmistakable resilience that had been lacking in Buffy’s form since the kidnapping, and while it thrilled Kelly to see it back, her mind was trapped in a place where Zack’s horrors were lived and relived. She saw everything—everything. The face of the monster that had been her husband. The people he’d killed, the children he’d tormented, the friends he’d mutilated, the sister he’d raped. Kelly felt everything.

She felt everything as she hadn’t before. And again, without warning, she wished Spike had done what he’d promised he’d do. Dust for Zack would be easier than living with him.

Easier than living with this.

The Hyperion lobby was practically empty upon returning—practically, save for Gunn and Lisa, fresh back from their trip to the hospital. Kelly barely saw them, barely acknowledged them…

…and then the screaming started.

"What the FUCK is this?!" Lisa demanded, storming forward. She either didn’t hear Spike’s warning growl or didn’t care, for the next thing Kelly knew, she’d seized Buffy’s bloodstained hand to hold it up for inspection. "This is his, isn’t it? What did you do to him? What did you do?"

"Nothin’ he din’t deserve," Spike snarled.

"Look, whoever he was, he’s not now! He’s just—"

"Stop it," Kelly whispered.

"—Zack. My friend, and yours, too. Is he even—"

"Stop it," Kelly said again.

"—alive? Did you care enough to at least—"

"StopitstopitstopitstopitstopITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!" Something inside broke—a dam she hadn’t realized she’d built, a wall constructed and torn down again. And before Kelly could stop herself, she felt her hand smash into Lisa’s cheekbone and watched the young nurse topple helplessly to the floor.

"The fuck!" Gunn shouted, coming forward. One look at Kelly, though, and he stopped.

"You have no idea what you’re dealing with," she snarled, turning back to her former friend, who was scurrying to her feet. "No idea what he’s done. Don’t you dare come back into my life and start telling me how to live."

Bloody poured from the nurse’s face. Tears streamed down her cheek. "My God," she sobbed. "What happened to you?"

Kelly’s eyes blazed. "What happened to me?" she repeated, storming forward. "What happened to me?" She seized Lisa by the throat, lifting her off the ground. "Zack. Zack is what happened to me. Don’t you dare touch my friends again, Lisa. Not until you’ve had to watch your husband choke his own son. Not until you see Zack fucking another woman, and then another, right after he leaves a family of three on your doorstep, dead, with a note that says your family is next. You think Buffy gave it to him bad? Ask Nikki, who Zack raped and mutilated. Her skin was peeled from her bones, Lisa, and that wasn’t an accident. Her insides were pouring out and do you know what killed her? A bullet. He wouldn’t let her die, someone else had to do it for her. You think he’s been violated? Why don’t you ask Rosalie about what it feels like to have your uncle jam himself inside you? Why don’t you ask Buffy what it’s like to hang, imprisoned, for days while your body is made into a jack-o-lantern and your friend rapes you because he can. You have NO IDEA WHAT HE’S DONE TO US! You have NO RIGHT TO TAKE HIS PAIN AWAY! HE DESERVES IT! HE DESERVES EVERYTHING HE GETS! HE DESERVES IT! HE DESERVES IT! HE DESERVES…"

Lisa fell to the ground without warning, as did Kelly. Gunn ran to help her up, and Buffy immediately rushed to her friend’s side, and pulled her into her arms as the young vampire burst into tears.

Reality had come home at last.

*~*~*

Harsh lights pulsed across a dance floor. Music blared, bodies moved, and Faith lost herself in a sea of strangers.

This was the only place that had ever made her feel at home.

Dawn approached Los Angeles, but the night wasn’t over. Not for Faith.

She had nowhere to go, so instead, she would dance.

*~*~*

Gunn tried to get her to go. He told her that Kelly was right and Zack just couldn’t be helped. He had killed Fred and for that there was no forgiveness. He had brutally mutilated Nikki in a manner that was unspeakable even under the evilest of standards. But she didn’t know Fred or Nikki. She knew Zack. She knew he was in need and if the tables were turned, he would do the same for her.

So with great reluctance, she made Gunn go. She told him to go back and mourn his friends and leave her to save one of her own.

The blood was gut-wrenching as she entered the warehouse. She could smell it before she ever saw his body. And what she found was worse than before. There was hardly any recognition that he was Zack Morris. Blood covered his face and there didn’t seem a single piece of flesh that wasn’t distorted or twisted out of place.

"Hold on," she whispered as she tried to devise the quickest plan to get him to her car and back to her apartment before the morning sun appeared.

"Go!" he demanded in a horse gurgle.

"Yeah, right. If a bitch-slapping from your wife wasn’t enough to deter me, that isn’t going to do the trick."

"I could kill you."

"Right now you can’t even wipe your own ass, so don’t fuck with me Morris."

*~*~*

She was done. Done of everything. She surrendered her rights to existence. She just didn’t want to do it anymore.

She didn’t want to be a mother. She didn’t want to coddle.

She didn’t want to be a friend and worry about how Buffy and Spike were doing.

She didn’t want to be a wife.

She didn’t want to live. For eternity. An eternity like this. Where her children would grow old and die and she would be left with a humanity that she couldn’t stand to look at.

She didn’t want to fight.

She just wanted to lie there. Sleep. Forget. Be done.

She knew it was incredibly selfish, but Kelly was pretty sure she was entitled. She had spent her entire life being a mother hen. Taking care of everyone else. Putting her needs at the bottom of the list while she went out of her way to make sure that every nose was wiped and every dinner made.

What had it gotten her in the end?

Misery.

She lost her first family and the largest part of her second. She was left with nothing but bitter memories of a past that would never come again into existence. And at the end of the day, she had nothing left for herself.

When she heard the door open, she closed her eyes. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to be left alone.

But that never stopped Rosie as she shut the door behind her and crawled in the bed beside her mother. She rested her head on her mom’s shoulder and leaned over to give the fallen vampire a gentle kiss upon the forehead. "When will he come home?"

She didn’t have an answer, so she didn’t speak. She just kept her eyes closed and hoped that the child would get bored and go away. But Rosie Morris wasn’t easily deterred. Probably knew her mother wasn’t even asleep. "I know he’s sorry. I’m sure Will can forgive him. He has a soul again Momma. And he’s hurting real bad."

Silence. That was all she could give.

The child sighed in defeat. She had done all she could do. Tell what she had seen. So with a gentle kiss, she lay down next to her mother and went back to sleep.

And Kelly fell back into her misery. Alone.


	37. Chapter 37

A pot of coffee and a raiding of Spike’s wardrobe of jeans and black, fitted tees was all Hunter needed to get out on the move. He knew he’d have to deal with the platinum vampire later, but his immediate concern was finding Faith before she did something they both would regret.

It wasn’t until the second demon bar he came to that he located her. He had been hopeful with the first, but knew the second was a more realistic option. It was darker, seedier and had a clientele of a darker fashion. He walked up to the door with determination in his eye and a stake in his pocket.

There wasn’t a single crack to allow light onto the dance floor. It had been carefully constructed to make sure the local nightlife would never have to see the light of day. The room was filled with unmistakable scents: liquor, blood, cigarettes, urine and marijuana.

And in the heart of it was an unmistakable sight: Faith’s hips dance to the techno beat. She shone as a beacon, even in the darkness and strobes of light. She was attracting a crowd as everyone wanted a taste of the slayer.

And Hunter knew as he made his way across the room that the smell of human blood was stirring up hunger pains in most of the patrons. But he didn’t care. He didn’t look back. He took a page out of her book as he strolled over to her and made his way through the crowd. "Hey love, can I buy you a drink?"

The look of shock on her face when she turned around to face him was well worth the lack of sleep. "What the fuck?"

He had to smirk. "Let’s say we blow this joint. Show you some real dance moves."

"Fuck off," she snapped as she turned to move away.

He grabbed her arm. "Wait, Faith. Can we talk?"

"What did you say?" she cried over the blaring music.

"Can. We. Talk?" Hunter shouted, giving her arm another gentle tug toward the door.

"I’m busy," she stated before pulling herself away.

He sighed in defeat and headed off the floor. He knew he wasn’t anywhere near the Mongle, but all of a sudden the demon was in his face and screaming that he had knocked his glass over. Hunter rolled his eyes and tried to make his way pass, but there was a hungry group of vampires quick in tow. He heard the familiar growl, but didn’t have enough time to react. Just as he braced for the blow behind him, her heard the unmistakable sounds of a vamp turning to dust.

"Trouble here, boys?" she asked in as innocent a voice as Faith could muster.

And that’s when hell broke loose.

*~*~*

Zack and Lisa were both grateful she rented a first floor apartment as she dragged him across the ground. "If you’re trying to kill me," he hissed. "Just stake me and get it over with." Dawn’s early light was creeping over Los Angeles.

"Well, if I had a little help here things might go a bit easier."

"Sorry," he mocked. "I’m a little invalid."

"I know. And if you have many more visits from family and friends you won’t have anything left of yourself but a heaping pile of dust. You can turn to dust, right?"

"Keep me out here ten more minutes and you can watch."

She got them to her doorstep before she shrieked. "Rowdy!" Then she dropped Zack so she could move a dead, stuffed golden retriever from her front door.

"What?" Zack grumbled.

"Don’t ask," she warned as she then proceeded to unlock her door. After everything was open, she again picked up Zack’s torso and began to pull him inside. But as she attempted to move him through the entryway, an invisible barrier kept him outside. "What the hell? Zack! C’mon! I know my apartment is small, but—"

"You have to invite me in."

"Isn’t dragging you across the threshold enough of an invitation?"

"Just say something like ‘Zack may come in.’"

"That’s stupid."

"That’s the rules. Vampires can’t enter a home without an invitation."

"Zack Morris! Get your ass in here."

That did the trick. She then proceeded to get him up on her living room sofa before grabbing some blankets to cover her living room window from any cracks of light. From there, she tried to wipe off the excess blood from herself and her vampire victim. Afterwards, she took a quick shower and put her work scrubs on.

"I have to go to work now, but when I come back this afternoon I’ll have medical supplies."

"This is really unnecessary. Just let me die. Trust me when I say Kelly was right. You have no idea what I’ve done and how much I don’t deserve to live."

"Well, apparently they don’t think you deserve to die because they haven’t killed you, yet. Just keep mutilating you."

"Please, just kill me."

"Not a chance." And though she knew there wasn’t a chance that he could do, she moved her TV remotes, just in case he got any ideas about staking himself before she left.

*~*~*

"Now, that’s the best part of waking up!" Faith cried as her and Hunter burst out in the morning sunshine.

Hunter couldn’t help it as he grinned in response. "That was a pretty decent fight."

"I guess I should take you with me anytime I wasn’t to instigate some death and destruction."

"Oy! Those Mongles were looking for a fight. I just happened to be the bloke they chose."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Faith replied as she started walking down the alleyway.

"Wait Faith! I think we need to talk."

"Look, I’ve already made up my mind, so go back to your girlfriend and tell her you failed. Again."

"Why don’t you stop and think about the bloody stupid plan you’ve concocted? You’re gonna head back to England where the Council is gonna track every bloody move you make. You’ll have no purpose but further experiments and dissection to see how exactly a slayer is made." He sighed and shook his head. "Or you can stay here where you have a purpose. To help Wesley. To help Rosalie."

"How the fuck can I help Wes? Huh? Moral guidance?"

"Hell no!" he balked. "But you can be a friend. A companion. Maybe teach him how to channel his pain into something productive." He sighed again. "And Rosalie. God, Faith! That girl has just lost two of the only female figures in her life. Now, after she’s bonded with you, you decide to leave her high and dry."

"Are you done with the sermon?"

"No. I’m not bloody finished. Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you, but dammit! I’m human. I’ve never been one with too many friends…okay, any friends. And when I saw you—after you kicked my arse—I was kinda hopeful that we had bonded. With those missions the Council had sent us on whatnot. I told you things I haven’t shared with anyone because I thought that you could relate. I thought you knew how it felt to be on the outside looking in."

"What’s you point? I’m getting bored." But she hadn’t made any attempts to turn around and leave again.

"I’m just saying that you can do what you want. You always do. But here you have a Wesley, a Rosalie and a Hunter that could use you. As a friend."

"Do you have a thing for me?" Faith asked pointedly.

"Do you have a thing for me?"

She laughed. "Not hardly. No offense or anything, but you’re not my type."

"Oh, thank god!" His features were washed over with relief. "After Rosalie told me she thought you had a crush on me—"

"Let’s get something straight," she warned. "I don’t have crushes. And I don’t have one on you."

"Good. We’re even." A pause. "And I hope you change your mind about leaving."

Another pause. "I’ll think about it."

And with that, they both turned and headed out of the alleyway together. "By the way," Hunter added as they reached the street. "What did you say to Rosalie aside from fact that you were leaving? She kept nervously mentioning ‘stuff.’"

"Oh nothing much," the slayer said with a sly smirk. "Just the fact that you want her to ride your pony."

*~*~*

Willow took an extra moment to stop and stare at all the little babies organized in the nursery based on booty and hat color. She loved children—always had—but she had a tough time figuring out the little ones. William was an enigma to her and Rosie was just about to the age where she made sense again.

But as she looked at all the little newborns, she had a pang in that well-hidden maternal part of her soul. She wouldn't mind having one of those. Someday. Long, long in the future. Like say ten years or so.  
"She's not in there," Giles pointed out as he came up next to the witch.

"Oh well," she said turning to her father-figure. "Did you ever want to have a baby?"

"Maybe back in my very naive youth. Then, I spent the greater part of my child-bearing years raising you, Buffy and Xander. Keeping you alive until adulthood is a feat I display with great pride."

"And I appreciate it!" she said giving him a one-armed hug. "But you never wanted a baby?"

"Do you?" he questioned with narrowing eyes.

"God no! Well…maybe…somewhere in the distant future."

"I don't think you need to worry about having a child to validate yourself. Procreation isn't the only means for creating a legacy." He sighed. "And now I have Rosie and William to care for."

"You are quite the Papa Bear."

He grinned the smile of a proud grandfather. "So, what brought you down here aside from the philosophical musings?"

"I brought Rosalie over to visit her baby sister. The school attendance office woke me up and announced that she had a dozen unexcused absences and if she didn't show up today she would be truant. I told the woman that she had had some deaths in the family,  
but I would make sure she showed. Then I hung up and remembered why I hated attendance secretaries so much."

"Yeah, I figure Melody and I have really done all we can for the moment. Are the children okay?"

"Peachy with a side of keen."

"Good."  
Melody walked up. While she still looked lovely, there was weariness in her eyes that come from days without decent rest. "Hi, Willow.""Hi."  
Then, she looked to Giles. "Rupert, I'm going downstairs for another cup of coffee. Do you want anything?"

"I'll join you. I could use the exercise. Willow? You care to join us?"

She shook her head. "Naw. I'll give Rosalie a few more minutes and then slip in and offer my congrats to the new baby mama." With that, she gave Giles and Melody a hug and went back to staring into the nursery.

She hadn’t expected anyone to come up behind her, and she didn’t expect Lisa to be the one tapping on her shoulder. "Can I talk to you?" she asked when the red-headed witch turned around.

Willow glanced around to make sure the woman was talking to her. While they had "met," they certainly hadn’t been introduced. "Ummm…yeah, I guess." And then she was following the nurse back into a supply closet.

"Sorry," Lisa said with a blush. "I just didn’t really want to be overheard."

"Okay." Willow had an awkward feeling about this. "So…umm…what’s up?"

"I need a favor." Lisa threw up a hand. "And please hear me out. It’s about Zack."

Willow’s eyes darkened. "Yeah."

"I know you’re a witch. I’ve overheard things and I saw you do a few spells." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if there was anything you could do to help me heal him. He’s broken up pretty badly and I just want to make sure that he can survive to defend himself."

"Well…that’s not really up to you or me. Buffy and Kelly and Spike have the final say on that."

"If they were going to kill him, they would have done it already. Look, I know you’re as pissed with him as the rest of the world, but I just want to help him live through the next beating his so-called friends decide to inflict on him. At this point, I don’t think he can."

"He’s a vampire, Lisa. They can live through a lot more than you think." A pause. "Though live might be a wrong choice of word. Survive is better."

"Well, with every bone in his body literally shattered and most of his blood gone, I really don’t think this vamps prognosis is good."

Willow sighed. Lisa had a point. If Buffy and the others had planned to kill him, they would have done it by now. And Zack wasn’t a threat as long as his soul was intact. She just didn’t know how her helping him out would make everyone feel. Including herself. "I…just don’t know…"

"Look, the sooner he heals the sooner he can get out of Los Angeles. Or the country. Or make peace or whatever. I just know that if I don’t get a little help, he’s not gonna make it."

"Okay," she said hesitantly. With that she set her carpet bag down on a shelf and began to rummage inside. "I’m going to give you a bottle of Skela-Grow. The directions on the back are pretty self explanatory. It’s painful I warn. And with the damage you’re talking, he’s likely to suffer for a day or two. Regrowing bones isn’t easy. And I’m not entirely sure how it works on vampires." Willow pulled out the bottle and read the back. "Hey, what do you know? It’s been tested and approved on vampires and werewolves. Good to know for future reference." The witch handed the bottle over to the nurse. "That’s really the best I can do. I never took any advanced training in Healing Arts and…I don’t really want to go face him, yet."

"Thank you!" Lisa said and hugged the woman with appreciation. "Thank you so much!"

With that, the nurse tucked the bottle inside her scrubs and left the closet. And Willow was left to question whether she had done the right thing.

*~*~*

"Honey, I’m home!" Lisa chirped as she entered her apartment. Everything was exactly where she left it, including the mangled vampire on her sofa. He barely opened his eyes as she walked inside.

She balanced the two Sacred Heart plastic bags she was carrying and managed to shut and lock the door. Then she dumped her packages into a living room chair and began pulling out various medical supplies. "How do you not get arrested?" Zack croaked.

"This was easy. I told Dr. Cox that I was tending to a friend who didn’t have any insurance. Cox is a sucker for that."

"Heh," Zack said with an awkward chuckle. "You said cocks."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Glad to know you never changed." She sighed. "So, do you think you can eat?"

"I’m pretty sure my esophagus is broken."

"Well, then we’ll just do this the other way." The nurse pulled out a bag of blood and then began to find various tubes and syringes.

"W-What are you doing?" Zack asked. Eyes as open as he could get them.

"Well, I’m going to start you an infusion and then I’m gonna give you some medicine."

"No and no."

"I’m not gonna let you just die on my sofa."

"And I’m not gonna let you stick that needle in me."

Lisa cracked up. "You’ve got to be kidding me? You’re a fucking vampire. You eat people. You suck blood. But an itty bitty needle still freaks you out."

"I just don’t like the buggers, okay?"

"Well, suck it up and deal." She paused and giggled. "Suck it up. Ha! If you could do that then we wouldn’t need the needle."

"I hate you."

"You and your wife both." With that she started the IV and got a bag of blood flowing into his system. "When you start on the second, I’m going to start the Skele-Grow."

"Where did you get that?"

"From the Skele-Grow section of the supply closet. And I warn you that it isn’t going to be pleasant. Growing new bones is a bitch from what I heard, but it’s better than taking the long route."

"I guess," Zack said staring off in the distance.

She knew the pain was the last thing on his mind. 

*~*~*

There was a mess on his floor. That wasn’t new; Buffy was always bothering him to tidy things up, but he was a messy sort of bloke. But that sort of mess wasn’t hiss. He never truly gave two figs about what he wore. Most everything looked good.

The clothes provided a distraction, though, even if his mind kept dragging him to the same place.

Since her outburst, not much had been seen of Kelly. She’d consigned herself to her room, asking for nothing while simultaneously doing nothing to shoo away unwanted visitors. Every now and then, she would rise, make sure her children were all right, but the caring mother everyone had come to see in her had all but disappeared entirely. Her will to exist, much less live, had seemingly left the building.

For the first time since he left Zack, Spike regretted not killing him. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time…not because his former friend was worth saving, rather for the price of punishing him, he might have lost Kelly. She’d been ready to say goodbye—it wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d accepted it. She was prepared. She could move on.

He’d forced her into a place now where moving on was impossible. How could she see beyond tomorrow when yesterday was still nipping at her heels?

How could she see anything at all?

Spike wasn’t one for guilt where others were concerned. There were things he regretted doing, sure, people he regretted hurting, namely because his inner darkness was something Buffy had to live with. She understood him, though, and she accepted him for all his flaws, remarkable as that was. He wouldn’t spit in the face of gratitude; lord knows he woke up each bloody day, awed by the fact that Buffy was beside him. Years couldn’t wilt the wonder that was living with her, knowing she loved him and would always be at his side. She’d seen beyond the blood and washed him clean, and flawed as he was, dark as he was, she’d accepted him, and made him new with grace even she didn’t fully understand.

No, Spike wasn’t one for guilt. And when he left Zack behind, it wasn’t out of pity or mercy…it was entirely selfish. The soul was supposed to punish, and he wanted Zack punished. He wanted him to bleed and keep bleeding.

He didn’t, however, want to punish Kelly, and leaving Zack alive had done exactly that.

Still, the decision had been made. Killing Zack now wouldn’t solve anything—Kelly was unstable, not due to fragility but the rollercoaster ride her life had been on ever since they arrived in Los Angeles. She’d been prepared for Zack’s death before, and she wasn’t now. It would just make a bigger mess of things.

Spike sighed heavily, meeting Buffy’s weary eyes as she stepped out of the bathroom. It was the third shower she’d taken in two hours; every time she stepped out, she spied another fleck of Zack’s blood on her skin and practically dove back under the nozzle. Spike knew better; she might not have much guilt for what she’d done to him, but she had enough. Lady Macbeth and her cursed spot.

Buffy had done what was right by her. She was owed blood. She’d been coping as well as could be expected up until her breaking point, but as time progressed, vulnerability spilled through the cracked veins of her protective wall. It was slight at first, but eventually she couldn’t even look at Wright, and for someone as strong and self-reliant as Buffy to cower every time a man looked at her…that would have been her undoing, given enough time.

Kelly understood that as well as anyone, but with her, it couldn’t be simple. She couldn’t pummel Zack to take back what was hers, nor could she look him in the eye and pretend he was her husband. She couldn’t take care of him and she couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t do much of anything.

What was killing her wasn’t her weakness, rather her strength.

"Don’t know why you do that," Spike said, motioning to the towel Buffy had tucked under her arms. "Not like I haven’t seen it all."

She wrinkled her nose. "Just feels weird stepping out of the shower naked."

"An’ here I thought that was the point of showering."

Buffy made a face at him, and his heart hit the clouds. It was so fucking good to see her smile again. "You know what I mean."

"Hardly ever." He turned back to examine the mess left by the closet floor. "Any word on what happened here?"

"Rosalie might have mentioned something about a certain naked watcher needing an appropriately-sized wardrobe."

Spike rolled his eyes. "That git is gonna annoy the piss outta me."

"I’d imagine so. Most gits do."

"Better not ruin my favorite shirt, is all I’m saying."

A brow perked. "You have a favorite shirt?"

"Whichever one he snagged was my favorite." Spike sighed and turned to face her fully. "Feeling any better?"

"The next ten seconds or so look good. Just don’t let me examine my hands." Buffy licked her lips, slowly unwrapping her towel before tossing her head over to wring out the water. "Any word on Kelly?"

Spike’s eyes were on her glorious backside; it was bloody difficult focusing on silly things like words when she was bent over so provocatively. "Hmmm?"

The second her head flipped upward, though, he was all business. Buffy hadn’t made any move to suggest she needed intimacy beyond a hug or the occasional kiss since he tore her out of Wolfram and Hart. After what she’d been through, after her body had been pillaged, he didn’t want to do anything that would bring back memories time couldn’t erase.

It had been all right before. He didn’t know why—perhaps her first brush with death had been too much of a dream for the reality to sink in. He remembered pausing before slipping inside her for the first time, remembered telling her there was no need to rush—that he could wait forever if it was what she needed. But what she needed at the time was him, and he needed her, too. Only everything was different now. There was no fantasy to cushion reality; they had been together too long, seen and experienced too much to pretend the world didn’t exist beyond the doors. Her body had been mutilated by a monster wearing the face of a friend. There was no time limit on how long things like this took to heal.

Spike was a man, a man who enjoyed sex, a man who loved the woman he had in his bed, a man who always wanted to be with her, inside her, holding her…but more than anything, he loved her. He loved the simplicity of being beside her when it was quiet, of sharing her laughter when she was full of mirth, of bantering back and forth about things so small and inconsequential only they understood. He loved their physical intimacy, but he cherished her, and there was no price great enough to change his mind.

When Dru had been sick, he’d been abstinent, even when she encouraged him to take his carnal desires elsewhere. It hadn’t been fun—Dru wasn’t exactly thrilling company…something he hadn’t seen and would have resented then. But he’d promised himself to her and he wasn’t a man who broke his word. Not with Dru, no matter how she never bothered to return the favor.

Buffy was worth anything. He might always want to shag her silly, but just sharing moments like this was more than enough. More than he should have.

"Kelly," Buffy said again, breaking him from his reverie. "Has she come by?"

"No, love. Sorry."

Her shoulders fell, her eyes turning to the door. It provided him a quick second to admire her breasts before she turned to face him again. "I keep thinking I should go in and say something," she said. "But that would lead to badness. Me plus speaking always leads to badness."

"She looks up to you," Spike reasoned. "And you have been there before."

"Angel was nothing like this."

"No, Angel was a bloody tosser, but you—"

"Angel wasn’t Zack, Spike. Or you. Yeah, at the time, it killed me…but those were…those feelings were different than what she had with Zack. I was a kid, then, and it was different. We never thought anything like this could happen with them. And she’s not a kid…she’s a woman with two children and a husband, who, by the way, is your best friend." Buffy crossed her arms under her breasts, dragging his attention to her rosy nipples for half a second before he caught himself. It’d be so much easier if she’d just put some damn clothes on. "And we can’t leave him where he is forever."

"We also can’t bring him here," Spike reasoned, the thought alone making his blood stir. "Not with what he’s done."

Buffy nodded, shivering hard and taking a step closer. "Zack’s not Angel, either," she said softly. "I saw so much more of Angel the more distance I put between us. Angel…when he’s Angel…is a decent guy, Spike. I can’t stand him and neither can you—"

"Tosser," he said again, this time indignantly.

"—but he’s still a decent guy. But he does have more Angelus in him than he’ll ever admit. And yeah, some of Zack’s personality was…Zack, but that doesn’t make them the same person. You put the demon in him."

Spike’s eyes widened in protest. "I—"

"And you have to help him take it out."

"Where the bloody hell is this coming from? Buffy, the man—"

"Is your friend," she said again. "No matter what he did to me."

"Bugger. That."

"Spike—"

"No, don’t Spike me, you twisted bint. Do you have any sodding idea what I went through? Thinking what he was doing to you, an’ then seeing it…Christ, I can’t get the images outta my head. The only thing that kept me from turnin’ him to dust was knowing he deserves this." He shook his head harshly. "’m not a charity, and he’s—"

"Your friend."

"My friends don’t rape you!"

"That’s not the world we live in!" she tossed back, eyes blazing brilliantly. "And face it, Spike, that’s exactly why we never killed him. We could have killed him a thousand times before things went as far as they did, but we didn’t, because we knew we could save him."

"Rot."

"No, not—"

"Things change, Slayer. You an’ I know that better than anyone. That man strangled his kid, killed Wright’s sis, killed Fred, near as fuck killed Faith, an’ then…after you…" Spike broke off, shaking his head. "He deserves what he gets."

"And he’s gotten it."

"Trust me. He hasn’t gotten goddamn thing."

Buffy sighed harshly and shook her head. "He didn’t try to fight me, Spike," she said softly. "He wanted it. I gave it to him good, and he asked for more. And I mean that literally. He begged me to stake him, and not so the pummeling would stop. Whatever we do to him is nothing. He’s doing it to himself. And yeah, I wanted blood. A part of me still does, but…we can’t just let him sit there and rot."

Spike shuffled wordlessly. He hated it when she was right.

She was almost always right when it came to things like this.

"Why not?" he said at last. "Seems fair enough to me."

"We’re not in the business of what’s fair. We’re in the business of what’s right."

Yeah, and that wasn’t fair. Spike wanted blood, not forgiveness.

He wanted normalcy.

He wanted Buffy back the way she’d been. He wanted Kelly to smile again. He wanted her children to sleep without nightmares.

He wanted his friend back.

And God, how he hated himself for that.

"We can’t tell Kelly," Spike said softly, unaware he’d spoken until Buffy’s eyes lit up. And the next thing he knew, she was in his arms. Her soft, wonderful body, her warm skin, her breasts against his chest, her nipples poking him, teasing him, taunting his mouth with their perfection.

Spike pulled away before his cock did his thinking for him. No. Not until she said so.

Not until this mess was behind them.

Un-bloody-fair.

Yes, it was. But it was also right.

Strange how those things went hand-in-hand.

*~*~*

Willow was a lousy liar.

She was even lousier when pretending she had nothing to lie about. Sure, she’d made progress; she had to fudge the truth if she insisted on interacting in both the wizarding and the human world. It was a feat made easier by her youth—Sunnydale was, after all, the nation’s best kept secret. And she’d recently had some great practice in the whole debacle with Sam…right up until concealing the truth would probably come at the cost of his pretty little head.

Things like this, however, were a different matter. She could lie to protect a society, but lying to protect herself was a different matter altogether. Thus, when she returned to the Hyperion, fresh from having dropped Rosalie off at school and providing a litany of truths to cover her many absences—all of which were confirmed by her father via a phone call, unhappy as he was to remember Rosalie had missed so much—the first thing Willow did was dive into a book she’d been carrying with her for two years, hoping no one would look at her, much less ask how her day had been.

Her plan was foiled almost immediately; Faith and Hunter, looking like three kinds of Hell, stumbled into the lobby within five minutes of her arrival. They were bickering, naturally, but at least Faith looked to be in a better mood than she’d been when she left.

"Hey, Red," she said, abruptly tearing herself away from the quarrel—right in the middle of Hunter’s tirade, no less. "Nix the flight thing. Think I’m set."

"Oh. Okay." Good. She hadn’t had time to give Faith’s request any consideration, much less put anything concrete in motion.

Then, like an idiot, she couldn’t just let things lie. "You’re gonna stay here, then?" Willow asked. "Help Rosalie deal with the big?"

"She bloody well is not!" Hunter cried, blushing furiously. Willow suddenly recalled Faith’s parting words to the young slayer and quickly put two-and-two together. "Get her on the first plane to London, now."

"Aww, shucks, English," Faith teased, tossing an arm around his neck and rewarding his head with a makeshift noogie. "You say the sweetest things to me."

"I mean it, she—"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Oh, ease up, Nick."

"You told Rosalie I want to shag her!"

"You do."

"But did you have to tell her that?"

"I don’t believe in lying to kids."

Willow let out a deep breath. "Oh boy."

"That is not acceptable, Faith!" he snarled. "A watcher’s relationship with his slayer is tentative at best. The girl already has trust issues and the fact that you let her think—"

The other slayer’s hands came up quickly. "Look. You’re the one who’s all hot for me to stick around. People say dumb shit when they’re angry, and with as often as I fuck up, you really can’t expect me to be perfect when I’m pissed."

Hunter had no argument for that, though by the tick in his jaw, he definitely wanted to shoot something back. Something undoubtedly juvenile and argumentative, which made it all the better that he abstained.

"Now," she said, straightening her shoulders. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Of course I do." A pause before he smirked. "And not just because you’re bloody dynamite in the sack. You’re a friend, Faith, no matter what you think or how hard you try to brass me off."

"Doesn’t take much," she reasoned with a shrug.

"No," Hunter agreed softly, smiling. "It doesn’t."

The lack of hesitation in his voice spoke more than words, though those went a long way as well. Faith instantly relaxed, the fire in her eyes fading. "All right, then," she said, turning back to Willow. "I’m stayin’."

"All right," she said as though she had a personal stake in where Faith went. "Well, I have the ingredients on an entry spell brewing upstairs. Once this puppy’s activated, no more uninvited guests."

"We thinkin’ the Big Bad Lawyers are gonna be a problem?" Faith asked.

"They’ve been too quiet to be up to anything good," Willow agreed. "And they’re, you know, Wolfram and Hart, so that’s a given."

"Where’s Rosalie?" Hunter asked, pointedly ignoring the smirk the Slayer tossed in his direction.

"School. Apparently they don’t like it when kids miss weeks at a time with no notice."

"Eh, fuck school," Faith reasoned. "I dropped out when I was fifteen."

"Which is precisely why she should stay in school," Hunter fired back. "One of you is enough."

Faith just grinned and turned back to Willow. "Wright?"

"At the hospital."

Where I went behind my friends’ wishes and gave Lisa a boost to healing Zack.

"Gunn?"

"Probably sleeping. Things got a little hairy here earlier."

"What happened?" Hunter demanded. And Willow instantly wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

"Buffy beat the tar out of Zack," she said quickly. "A-and Zack’s friend, the nurse?"

"Lisa," Faith supplied. "The chick who busted me out."

"Yeah, well, she and Gunn came back from the hospital together…Buffy, Spike and Kelly got back at the same time, and Lisa kinda went berserk when she saw all the blood on Buffy. Kelly lost it—really lost it—and has been in her room ever since." Willow shivered. "I was watching the kids, so I don’t know what all happened, but there was blood involved."

"Always fuckin’ is," the Slayer muttered.

Truer words had never been spoken.

*~*~*

Something was wrong.

Spike knew it well before he reached the familiar corner. He felt it with every move in his body, every pace, every beat. The warehouse was empty.

Zack was gone.

Zack was gone.

Black, hot anger filled his veins, twisting into his stomach and seizing him by every facet of his being. His feet trailed forward; he wouldn’t be satisfied until he looked inside. Until he had a whiff of the traitor’s scent in his mouth. Until he knew exactly who to kill for daring to mess with his business.

And this was. Anything pertaining to his family was his business.

The inside was much as he expected. Vacant save for the scattered boxes and broken pieces of furniture and other forgotten belongings. Blood was everywhere, but he’d expected that, as well. Bits of torn flesh were likewise scattered, drenched in red and doing nothing to help the smell.

But Zack was gone. Zack was gone.

And Spike knew who had taken him.

*~*~*

It wasn’t until around three o’clock that afternoon that Kelly finally decided to brave the outside. She didn’t feel like doing anything, didn’t feel like seeing anyone, but she’d rather face the others on her own terms than someone else’s, and that was something she risked losing the longer she remained locked away.

Buffy wasn’t in her room and she’d heard Spike leave earlier. The other watcher wasn’t anywhere to be found, either; nor was Rosalie or Faith. The voices from the lobby, however, left little to the imagination. The air was bubbly with excitement, and from the gushing sounds from the womenfolk, she guessed Cordelia had been okayed to come home.

Perhaps seeing a child was what she needed to feel more like herself. She didn’t know, but at this point, Kelly was willing to try anything.

A group had gathered around a visibly-exhausted Cordelia, who sat in a wheelchair, cradling a small bundle in the crook of her arm. Rosalie, backpack still strapped to her back, bounced with excitement when the new mother placed the baby in her arms. And tired as she was, Kelly couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She remembered that feeling—remembered holding Rosie for the first time, awed that something so small and perfect could have lived for any amount of time in her body. The second time with William had been bittersweet—she loved her son fiercely, but she’d likewise known he would be the last child she’d rear. Regardless of whether or not she and Zack tried to have another baby, the choice had been robbed of them. It wasn’t fair, but it had been their mutual decision.

The second-hardest decision she’d ever made.

Kelly sniffed and blinked back tears, forcing her thoughts away from Zack.

"Kelly!" Melody exclaimed, smiling up at her. "Oh, Kelly, isn’t she beautiful?"

Well, that had gone and done it. Now everyone was staring at her.

"Oh…yes," Kelly agreed shakily, making her way down the remaining stairs. "I…she’s so…tiny. I forget how tiny they are when they’re first born."

Cordelia beamed as Rosalie returned the child to her arms. "Would you like to hold her?" she asked.

Plastering on a smile, she nodded and faked enthusiasm as the group parted for her. The baby slipped into her arms with the same fluid ease as it would any mother’s, and when she looked at the sleepy, slightly-cranky face of Cordelia and Wright’s beautiful child, the hardness encasing her heart began to melt.

"What’s her name?" she whispered, playing with the few wisps of hair visible under the pink cap.

Wright and Cordelia exchanged a glance. "Kelly," the former said. "We named her Kelly."

Kelly’s head whipped up, taking in their expressions, certain she’d misunderstood. But she hadn’t, and immediately the walls came crashing down. Hard sobs seized her shoulders, tears flooding her eyes as they turned to soak in the newborn’s gorgeous little face.

The skies parted. She could feel again.

"Thank you," she murmured, crying. "Thank you."


	38. Chapter 38

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when Kelly was out of sight. Call her neglectful or selfish, but with as tired as she was, she didn’t feel like playing the supportive friend right now; as it was, Kelly likely needed to get out of the hotel for a while, a task for which Melody had immediately volunteered. Where the woman was taking her, Buffy didn’t know, but she needed to get out, and the Slayer couldn’t be more relieved.

The past few hours had been hell on Buffy’s nerves, and she didn’t feel like she was in any place to coach those she loved or provide a stable shoulder on which to lean. Her thoughts were occupied with Spike, who had stepped out to follow what she hoped was sound advice. He hadn’t wanted to do anything, but he was willing to try, even if it killed him.

Coming to that decision had been painful enough, but that was one of the penalties for releasing one’s anger. She’d gotten her own back and in doing so, she’d stripped Zack of everything he had left. It was something she’d never regret, even if she’d never call it a shining hour, but with the rage fading into acceptance, there were other realities with which she must contend.

These were all things she knew she had to face sooner or later, but her mind kept floating back to Spike. He hadn’t touched her once since the rescue…not the way she wanted, anyway. After everything that had occurred, she needed physical solace, needed the reassurance that she was still desirable as a woman, even if she’d been colored damaged goods all over again. Buffy hadn’t noticed his reluctance at first—he’d cared for her tenderly in the aftermath, held her when she wept, kissed her whenever he left a room, and watched her like a hawk when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. He’d been nothing but supportive, but there was something missing in every touch. Something she couldn’t name, and hadn’t noticed until her mind cleared.

She knew she was being ridiculous; after all, Spike was a horndog and he loved her. Chances were he’d decided to give her space…but she’d had space. She’d had space out the wazoo. And even after parading around naked—wet, and naked, mind you—he hadn’t budged. Hadn’t batted an eye. Hadn’t so much as dragged his eyes over her or licked his lips or done anything to suggest he was noticing her the way a man noticed a woman. Her multiple shower tactic hadn’t worked either—Spike hadn’t taken the bait, hadn’t been tempted by the image of her under a nozzle. It was the first time in years she’d managed to take a shower without any sort of interruption, and where she typically grew annoyed with him for making her late all the time, she missed it today.

He was giving her space…

…but what if he wasn’t?

Buffy frowned, making her way around the check-in desk to investigate the contents of the fridge. Bagged blood was still in stock, but they needed to resupply soon. She seized a package of O Neg and tore into it without bothering to heat it up.

What if he couldn’t look at her like that anymore? He’d seen her with Zack. He’d smelled Zack on her. He knew Zack was the last man who had been inside her. Perhaps she was tainted by association—Spike would never intentionally punish her for what had happened, but it could be he just didn’t want her anymore. He would always love her—she knew ­that—and he would never be unfaithful to her—the thought alone nauseated him—but if he didn’t want her the way he used to, she didn’t know what she would do. If there was anything to do. If she could cope at all.

There was much more to their relationship than sex, of course, but sex was a basic need in everyday life. In a vampire’s life, it was essential. It was one of the things they craved. And more than that, losing that closeness would destroy her. The way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he ran his hands over her skin and tugged at her earlobes with his teeth…if that was gone because of what had happened, if she wasn’t desirable as a woman anymore…well, she might have a whole new reason to hate Zack.

Buffy knew she was likely overreacting, but it just wasn’t like Spike to not bat an eye when she was naked. He made an innuendo at the very least, usually backed with some groping. To be so…indifferent…that wasn’t like him.

"Yo, B."

Buffy started, gulping down the last of the blood before turning to meet Faith’s eyes. She hadn’t sensed anyone near, which was troubling, as the other Slayer wasn’t alone. Rosalie and the new watcher were with her.

"Yeah?" she asked.

Faith paused and shrugged. "Nothin’. Just…yo. Hey, we’re gonna hit one of the alleys on the bad side of town to see about gettin’ some action. Feel like killin’ things?"

"Not at the moment, no." Buffy’s eyes traveled to the basement door. "Any word on Dead Man Drooling?"

"He drools?" Rosalie made a face. "Not cleaning that up."

"Strikes me as a Nancy Nick job," Faith agreed.

"Oi! I am standing here, you know." The little watcher fumed. "And he wouldn’t still be unconscious if you hadn’t hit him so bloody hard, Rosalie."

"Sorry. Next time I’m chasing a multiple murderer, I’ll definitely keep that in mind." She rolled her eyes at Buffy, as though they shared a private joke to which only slayers were privy.

"That’s not the point. The point is I am not cleaning up that man’s slobber."

"Guys," Buffy ventured, holding up a hand. "Somehow I don’t think that will be high on the priority’s list."

"Even so, it has Nick written all over it," Faith added.

The vampire sighed and rolled her eyes. There was no talking to anyone these days. "How’s Wesley?" she tried instead. That topic seemed much safer.

Faith shrugged. "I checked on him when I got back this morning. He seemed all right, though he needs to shower like a motherfucker. I’m giving him until tomorrow till I drag his smelly ass outside and hose him down."

"That ought to go over well," Hunter murmured.

"Figure once he gets some rest, he might be a bit more sociable. In the meantime, I’ve had three hours of sleep and I’m doin’ just fine." Faith’s eyes said something different, though Buffy wasn’t about to call her on it. "Sure you won’t come for a bit of slayer wrasslin’?"

"Three slayers all at once," Rosalie mused. "Nick would get a major woody."

Buffy’s eyes boggled. So did Hunter’s.

"That’s—"

Faith slapped a hand over his mouth before he could say another word. After her shock faded, Buffy had to concede a small smirk at the young girl’s antics. She knew the feeling well—trying to play herself up around someone she admired…it was a common trait in girls her age. Get Rosalie solo and she’d be entirely different, but for whatever reason, the girl had taken a major liking to Faith, and emulating her crudeness was the best way to display that affection.

It just seemed poor Hunter got the brunt of it.

The back-and-forth likely could have gone on forever had Spike not stormed in the next second, fury weight with every step. He met Buffy’s eyes and all but blew fire, stopping short to point to the front door.

"He’s gone!" he screamed. "That bloody bint took him!"

"Which bloody bint?" Hunter asked.

"The…an’ you!" The vampire’s finger found a new target. "Anyone ever tell you it’s a bad idea to steal from a soulless bastard?"

Hunter’s hands immediately went to the black tee covering his chest. "I didn’t have anything to wear."

"Then talk to Calvin Bloody Klein, but keep your mitts off my things."

"I wondered why that stuff looked so familiar," Faith mused.

Spike wasn’t done; the evidence from the earlier bar fight was marked all over the purloined items. Blood, tears, demon-goo, and liquor.

"Spike," Buffy cautioned. "Let it go."

"You owe me a new bloody wardrobe," he snarled.

"Wardrobe?" Hunter squawked. "I just stole one bloody tee!"

"Those jeans look right familiar too, mate."

"Right. And those."

"Both happen to be my favorites, so—"

"Spike!" Buffy yelled. "Who has Zack?"

"Who said anything about Zack?" Rosalie murmured.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Kid, if you hadn’t figured that part out, I think you’ve been spending too much time with Nancy."

"I do not owe him a bloody wardrobe!" Hunter cried.

"The nurse," Spike snarled. "Her scent was all over the place. Got a lead an’ tracked her down, but I can’t do rot without an invite."

"Why is this a big deal?" Hunter asked softly. "I mean, you were just letting him sit there—"

He squeaked inelegantly when the vampire’s glare found him again. Faith tsked and patted him on the shoulder. "Not the sharpest tool, are you, Nicky?"

"Because. He’s. Mine. Pillock."

"Spike’s gay?" Rosalie whispered. "When did that happen? I am so confused."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Have you all been drinking the stuff under the sink? He means he’s a part of our family—and we’re the ones who decide what happens to him. She had no right to interfere." She paused and shrugged. "It’s a vampire thing."

Spike turned back to Buffy. "That little bitch is sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong."

"What do you want to do?"

"Aside from rip her bloody head off, you mean?"

Buffy shrugged. "Gotta say, right now that’d be an improvement. After what Kelly did, you’d think she’d be smart enough to butt out."

"We need someone who—"

A throat cleared behind them. Three, in fact.

"Guys?"

Buffy and Spike turned around to face the others, of whom they were well on their way to forgetting.

"Guess who doesn’t need an invite?" Faith offered wickedly.

"Yeah," Rosalie said. "Who drank the stuff under the sink now?"

The vampires exchanged a glance.

"I do not owe you a new wardrobe," Hunter concluded.

*~*~*

Melody had offered him a place at her side when she left, and tempted as he was, Giles was bloody exhausted. Between the birth, the hospital, worrying about his surrogate children and grandchildren, and listening to Wright fire off a litany of names for the boy he and Cordelia would allegedly be having the next time she was pregnant, he didn’t think he could move, much less go out.

Still, when the knock came, he ignored his legs protestations and walked to answer it, expecting any number of things.

There were still so many ugly possibilities.

The one he hadn’t counted on, however, was an especially troubled-looking Willow.

This couldn’t be good.

"Willow?"

"Umm, Giles?" She wrung the front of her shirt nervously. "I did something…earlier. And I think it might have been…stupid."

He looked at her a minute longer before sighing in defeat.

No rest for the Watcher tonight.

*~*~*

Things were slightly awkward. There were currently so many taboo topics, but Kelly and Melody were going out of the way to make sure the conversation stayed light and airy. Kelly could sense that Melody wanted to ask about Zack, but she steered clear. They chatted about the baby and the kids and the weather.

Kelly used to be a frugal person. Growing up with no money had meant she had to. Now, with extra income coming in from Spike and Zangy’s many exploits, she had slowly developed into a shopaholic. Retail therapy was a pastime she and Buffy commonly used, especially when they felt an emotional change.

So, she was more than ready to hit the malls.

"Can we stop by the bank for a few minutes?" Melody asked as she headed downtown.

"Sure."

Kelly waited in the car as Melody went in and took care of business. Then, the couple headed out where they proceeded to buy everything that Cordelia and Wright would need for the next two years. They also made updates to Rosie and Williams’ wardrobes while throwing in a few personal purchases.

While they were walking around on store, Melody eyed a display of neckties. "Does Rupert wear suits often?"

Kelly’s eyes went wide. She just realized her mother-in-law had a thing for her favorite watcher. "Oh, well, sometimes. He’s started dressing more casual."

"Ahh," Melody said with a thoughtful nod. "Well, maybe he’d like something from the stationary store next door." She looked at Kelly for confirmation when she saw the wide-eyed brunette. "A thank you present," she added quickly. "For how nice he’s been to me the past few days."

"Ohhh!" Kelly’s eyes brightened. That was totally justifiable.

Not that Kelly didn’t love both Melody and Giles. She just didn’t want to think about…them…together.

*~*~*

Giles released another sigh as Willow finished confessing her sins.

"So…umm…yeah…that’s about it." Willow was so mortified that she was focusing her gaze on the carpet.

"And what exactly inspired you to hand over the Skele-Grow?"

Willow shifted and shrugged like a small child. "I don’t know. I guess she made a good point. The sooner Zack’s healed, maybe the sooner…all the badness can start getting less bad."

"And you understand that this might not go over so well with Spike, Buffy and Kelly."

"Well, I have thought about that once or twice." A pause. "Or a thousand and twelve times."

"Yes," Giles’ exhaustion was creeping back on him. "Well, I have a plan."

"What?" She looked up in desperation.

"Let’s…not do anything about the situation right now."

"Wha?"

He sighed. "I doubt that the others are going to go and see him for a day or two. Buffy has had her…confrontation. And I heard that Kelly also attempted to…confront him. And knowing Spike as I do, he’s not going to want to go anywhere near Zack at this moment for fear that he will actually kill the boy."

"So you’re saying I just pretend it didn’t happen?"

"For a day or two. Then, when they address the issue, you can explain how Lisa cornered you at the hospital and the babies created a weakness to your willpower."

"They did," Willow pouted. "They’re all cute with their little babyness."

"Okay," Giles sighed. "So that’s the plan I’d devise."

"Thanks, Giles!" she said with a hug.

She felt better as she walked downstairs. Confessing to Giles had done wonders to clear her conscience. And she was comforted by the logic that explained it may be days before anyone sees Zack. Then, they might not even think about how his bones were miraculously healed.

She heard the tires squeal out of the parking lot. With a puzzled brow, she turned to Gunn, who was sitting over on the sofa. "Who was that?"

Gunn looked almost ill. "Spike, Buffy, Rosalie, Hunter and Faith. They’re off to go kick Lisa’s ass for messing with Zack."

"Oh holy hell!" she squeaked as she ran back upstairs.

*~*~*

"Why am I not surprised that Cordy doesn’t have a HEMI?" Faith drawled as the raced down the street in a minivan.

"Sorry," Rosalie said sheepishly from the back. "It was the first set of keys I could get and Spike seemed pretty determined to go."

"I’m gonna bloody kill her. I’m not even soddin’ convinced she ain’ workin’ for the bloody devil!"

"And why are we helping him kill a woman is my real question," Hunter observed skeptically.

"Shut up wardrobe thief!" Buffy snapped.

"I think I hate you all," Hunter growled as he folded his arms in defeat and began to stare out the window.

"So, where am I driving this thing?" Faith said as she took a random sharp turn to the right.

"Right," Rosalie said with a nod. She had pulled Lisa’s address out of the phonebook. It wasn’t a neighborhood she regularly visited, but she knew the location. "Make a left at the first light you come to."

"Can we get a little music or something?" Buffy asked.

Faith reached over and turned on the dial. "Where do I go after the left, Baby Slay?"

"Umm…just keep that way for a few minutes."

*~*~*

"How are feeling?" Lisa asked with a furrowed brow as she came to check on her sofa patient.

He looked up at her with complete loathing. "You got this shit from Willow?" He jerked with a sharp pain. His hips were currently working on growing back together.

"Yeah, she pulled it out of her purse and handed it to me."

"And how do you know she didn’t give you something that’s just gonna make me fucking hurt for a month?"

"She said it was going to be painful. She warned and so did the bottle."

"And you don’t think someone who likely hates me and has magical power could make up a bottle that says anything she wants it to?"

"You think she poisoned you?" Lisa hadn’t thought about that. She was horrified at what she had possibly done.

Zack jerked again in pain. "It’s a fucking possibility."

*~*~*

"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame. You give love a bad name."

The car had erupted as the chorus began to play.

"I play my part and you play your game. You give love a bad name. You give love a bad name."

The group, for a serene moment, looked to starting a road trip. Not going to possibly kill a woman and reclaim a stolen vampire.

*~*~*

Sam walked into his office for the first time since his…absence. He had to smile as he looked at the stack of memos and messages awaiting him.

And then, his thoughts turned suddenly back to California. Not his district, but the fiery red-head he had left behind.

He knew he was a little forward with Willow. When he was with her, he felt hypnotized. Almost as if she captured him in her own special love spell. But aside from the lust—which had been quick and fierce—Sam was attracted to the witch for personality. Her loving spirit, wrapped up in a quirky persona, but hiding a powerful woman with unimaginable capabilities.

He really was going to have to call her.

But in the meantime, work awaited him.

*~*~*

"But there’s booze in the blender. And soon it will render that frozen concoction that helps me hang on."

The van was approaching its destination. And while tensions were high, the occupants of this vehicle felt entitled to a moment of normalcy.

"Wastin away again in Margaritaville," they sang in unison. "Searching for my lost shaker of salt. Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame, but I know it’s my own damn fault. Yes, and some people claim that there’s a woman to blame and I know it’s my own damn fault."

As Jimmy Buffett ended his classic, something caught Hunter’s eye. "Umm…guys?"

"If you’re goin’ to try and tell me that Buffett isn’ a bloody musical genius, I might as well throw you out the window an’ save some air." A pause. "Wardrobe thief."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "We’re being followed."

"No way!" Faith snapped. "I’ve been watching."

"Yes, and while you’ve been watching vehicles, I’ve been watching drivers. Those two men behind us were in a black SUV before and now they are in that white van."

"Shit," Buffy muttered as she looked behind her.

"But…how?" Rosalie asked.

Hunter sighed. "I’m guessing that they put a tracker on all the Hyperion’s modes of transportation."

"Well, then," Spike said lowly. "We’re just goin’ to have to do something about that."

*~*~*

Kelly and Melody burst through the front doors with armfuls of bags and packages. Wright and Gunn immediately stood up to help, but neither man knew exactly how to step into the delicate balancing act both women were conducting. Luckily, the girls made it to a couple vacant chairs and deposited their loads. "Oh, hi!" Melody chirped. She looked to see Cordelia and baby Kelly sitting nearby. "Perfect. Just the people I wanted to see."

"Did you guys buy the whole mall?" Gunn was eyeing the mounds of packages.

"You have no idea," Kelly said with a smirk. "But retail therapy is a godsend. I’m going to go find the kids."

As Kelly made her exit, Melody approached Cordelia and Wright. "First of all, I want to make it clear that in no way am I trying to buy your love and affection."

"Well, mine can be bought, but it’s pretty pricey," Cordy said with a smile.

Melody giggled before turning to Wright. "I know we’re not related. I know that for many justified reasons, you likely have an aversion to me." She continued on before Wright could even pretend to object. "But, for some reason I feel a connection to you. It may be the fact that you look so much like my son or it may be the fact that you represent the second child I always wanted to have with Derek." She held up a hand to silence him. "But that being said, I feel a certain connection to you and yours. And that, besides the kindness and protection you’ve all given me, influenced most of my over-purchasing today." She gave a grin. "That and I have an extra abundance of cash to burn now that a certain company has been dissolved."

The honking of a truck horn outside turned everyone’s attention. "Oh," Melody said looking at her watch. "They’re fast." She looked back to the silent couple. "Kelly and I were chatting and we realized that we hadn’t seen any baby items. We weren’t sure if you guys had them put away or something."

Cordelia sounded slightly distraught. "I never got a shower. Fred never had a chance to—"

"Don’t worry," Melody said softly. "Kelly and I took care of everything."

"Is that a moving truck?" Gunn asked blankly.

"Do you think they’ll be able to come in?" Melody asked. "With the protection spell and everything."

Giles, who was standing near the staircase, spoke. "I can reverse the spell if need be."

"Wonderful," Melody said with a grin. "And I hope you aren’t offended by my presumption, but I thought they could set everything up on the fourth floor. It looked a little empty to me and I think you’ll be a little cramped for space otherwise."

"Holy shit!" Gunn cried as he watched the truck door open. "I think they bought Baby’s R Us."

Melody blushed. "We did go a bit overboard. But we made sure our newest arrival wouldn’t have anything to yearn for. We also picked up a few items for Mom and Dad as well as the big sis. I know Rosalie has been through a lot." That comment was left open and ambiguous. "And sometimes the older siblings can get a little jealous of the younger one. So, Kelly and I think we took care of that."

Kelly entered the room with William in her arms and Rosie skipping in tow. "And then as we were heading back, we saw this place called Burk’s."

"You shopped at Burk’s?" Gunn and Wright seemed overwhelmed with delight.

"That place rocks," Kelly agreed. "But as a thank you gift, we decided to refill your weapons chests. Especially since it looks like you have two slayers now in residence."

Gunn ran outside to check out the new toys. Wright stood awkwardly, unable to speak or react. Cordelia, in the meantime ran over and with her baby-absent arm wrapped Melody up in a tight hug. "Thank you, Mom!" Emotion was thick in her voice and tears ran down her face. "You have totally bought my love and affection!"

*~*~*

"You got to be kidding me!" Sam said into the phone.

"I’m getting it from Zucker, who got it straight from Atkinson."

"Has the press found out, yet?"

"I figure before the end of the day AP is going to run it."

"Wow," Sam said taking a moment of pause. "And is there going to be a special election?"

"Certainly. The RNC is already calling for every viable candidate to get out to California."

"And the DNC?"

"Is laughing their asses off. The Republicans have had a stronghold on California in recent years. It’s doubtful that they’ll get another governor elected in the next hundred years."

"He was really running a prostitute ring with illegal aliens?"

"And don’t forget the drug trade," Josh added.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Well…thanks for calling me. I better get a statement ready to release."

"Actually, I was calling about more than that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was calling to tell you that the President and I think that you should run."

"You think I should run for the governor of California?"

"Not just run, Sammy boy. Win."

*~*~*

Melody waited until everyone was distracted. When the coast was clear, she slipped downstairs. He was lying on the floor in a pitiful lump. Seeing him only made her angrier. "Derek."

He stirred. He rolled over and saw her. Then, as quickly as his broken body would allow, he stood up and headed to the dungeon door. "Melody, thank god. I was waiting for you to come for me."

She furrowed her brow. "Are you serious? You think I’m here to save you? Save you after everything you’ve done."

"I never wanted t hurt you. They made me after everything else failed."

"Everything else? You mean how you tried to kill your first child and his three children. I guess you succeeded once, according to Cordelia. Then, you tried to kill our grandchildren. Then…what you did to Zack."

"It was never supposed to happen like that!" Derek cried in desperation. "He was never supposed to become a fucking vampire. No, no, no. We were supposed to be a happy family. It was supposed to work out better than this."

"And your dear first son was supposed to take on all the pain and suffering. He was supposed to die."

"Melody, listen to me—"

"No, you listen. I’ve already dissolved your business. I’ve cleaned out all your accounts. And what I haven’t already spent, I will. I’m going to give money to all of your grandchildren. And I’m going to make sure that every penny gets blown in a way completely contradictory to what you sold your sad little soul for."

"Melody, they’re going to kill me."

"Yes," she admitted. "They probably will."

"But you can’t let them!"

"I’m not going to tell them no. I have no right. The pain I feel. The betrayal and disgust is nothing compared to those people upstairs. You’ve destroyed so many innocent lives."

"You’re going to murder me? You can’t kill."

"I’m going to learn to live with the guilt. The guilt of standing by and watching you die. But, my conscience will be eased every time I think of the cruelness and horror you’ve done. And you did it for your own selfish greed."

"I did it for you! I did it for us!"

"There is no ‘us’. There really never was. And I’m okay with that because I stopped loving you years ago."

"Melody! Please!"

"Goodbye, Derek." With that, she turned and headed back upstairs. She was startled when she found Giles and Wright standing right outside the door, looking at her expectantly. "Sorry," she said with a blush. "I just had a few words to say."

"It’s okay," Giles said softly.

"Oh," Melody said, eyes brightening. "I set up savings accounts for the girls. I really hope you don’t mind, Zack."

"Well…I don’t know what to say."

"Fifty thousand might not cover college, but it should help."

Wright nodded stiffly, seeming overwhelmed. "Thank you." His voice was thick. Then, he turned and walked away.

"Do you think I made him mad?"

"No," Giles said with a gentle pat. "I think he’s too grateful for words."

"That reminds me." And as though it was the most natural action on earth, Melody took his hand and led him back to the main room. They went over to her purse where she pulled out a small box. "This is my present to you."

"You shouldn’t have." The crimson color of his cheeks agreed with his words.

"Rupert, I have no idea how I would have made it through the past few days without you. And after everything you’ve done for the kids, how could I not thank you."

"Well…I…" He gently began unwrapping the package.

Melody fidgeted. "It was hard coming up with something for you. You’re kind of a hard man to shop for. Kelly told me that you should enjoy this though."

He opened the box and looked in upon a pen. It was a beautiful pen. "Yes, I do enjoy pens. I like to write."

"I know. A pen. But it’s made out of snakewood, with a silver tip. They claim snakewood is the hardest wood in the world. I thought that it could represent the strength you possess and the way you’ve helped others to grow." She blushed. "Corny, I know. But with a silver tip, it can make a terrific stake!"

He pulled her into his arms, making sure not to stab her with his stake-pen. And while they hugged, a certain spark was struck between them.

There was a possibility that there was more than gratitude and friendship in the air.

*~*~*

Spike didn't know what to expect, but Rosalie's method of kicking the nurse's door in seemed to do the trick. 

"That was rather rash," Hunter whispered furiously. 

"No need to be quiet, Nancy, they know we're here." Faith tossed him a wink and strolled casually over the newly-opened threshold, crossbow slung over her shoulder. "We're here to see a lady about a vamp," she announced loudly. 

Lisa hurried forward, and it was all Spike could do to keep from rushing at the invisible barrier at full strength. 

"Oh no," the little meddler sputtered. "This is not happening!" 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Rosalie snarled. "It'll make everything better." 

"It's all right," a weak, pained voice offered from the sofa. And immediately, every molecule in Spike's body hardened with fury. 

Zack. 

Spike was no stranger to rage. Lord knows how many times the woman at his side had turned his world upside down, whether it was dropping organs on him or getting him captured by government gits, or just being herself. He hadn't known rage like this until she came into his life, and while all that had passed years ago, the memory remained alive and well. He hadn't cared one way or another about the wankers he offed before he met her—they hadn't offended him, rather they'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Sure, when he used to utilize lackeys, occasionally one or two would get on his bad side…but he hadn't known anger, true anger, until Buffy. 

It was one of the things that made their relationship so special. 

And yet, there was a fine difference between whatever he'd felt then and what he felt now. He hadn't seen Zack since he left him a crippled, bloodied mess on Wolfram and Hart's footsteps. After cleaning Buffy up, doctoring her wounds, examining where the bastard had torn into her…God, he didn't know if facing Zack was something he'd ever be ready for. But here it was. He had no choice in the matter. 

He didn't know if he could do it without ripping the bastard apart. 

"No!" Lisa shouted, marching over to the sofa. "It is not okay! Zack, these people are going to kill you!" 

"Let them," he whispered, then jerked in pain. "FUCK! Please, let them!" 

"We're not gonna kill him," Faith said, the crossbow on her shoulder slipping elegantly into her arms. "Now, do me a solid and let my vamps in." 

Lisa's wide eyes went to Buffy and Spike. "No way," she said. "No way." 

"He owes them," Rosalie spat. 

"After the way he's been beaten—" 

"Yeah, well, he killed me, or have you forgotten?" Faith sneered unkindly and motioned at the sofa. "He also tortured my girl B, and he deserves whatever she dished, if not more." 

"He doesn't look like he's been beaten," Hunter observed with a frown. "At least not…I thought she tore him to shreds?" 

"I did," Buffy said flatly. 

Zack's eyes fell shut at her voice. Though he'd smelled her, he'd hoped it was a lingering scent from their last encounter. He couldn't face her again, just as sure as he couldn't face Kelly. The images in his head were torture enough…add Buffy and Spike in the mix, and he'd lunge onto something pointy. 

"Yes, well, he doesn't look it," Hunter said. Then, darker, he demanded, "Have you been feeding off humans?" 

The thought made his stomach turn. "No!" he screamed. "God no." 

"No, but he's been feeding off something else," Rosalie observed, swiping the empty bottle of Skele-Grow from the coffee table. She took a quick look at the ingredients and wrinkled her nose. "Anyone know who would have something with newt skin and rat eyes in their inventory?" 

Buffy and Spike exchanged a solemn glance. 

"Sounds like Big Red to me," Faith offered. 

"Willow gave Zack something to feel better?" Hunter demanded, tossing the two vampires outside a worried look. 

"If it makes any difference, I don't think it works," Zack hissed, twitching violently. 

"I asked her for help," Lisa explained unapologetically, and seemingly uncaring that her yapping was going to get someone in trouble. "She gave it. You weren't letting him heal!" 

"He doesn' deserve it," Spike snarled, his eyes glowing yellow. 

"Yeah, well, you weren't letting him die, either." 

"And here's where I say, none of this is any of is any of your business." Buffy planted her hands on her hips. "Zack is our priority, and taking him was perhaps one of the dumbest things you could have done. What happens to him is up to us." 

Lisa's brow wrinkled. "Who the fuck do you people think you are?" she demanded. 

Spike growled. Buffy squeezed his arm to calm him. 

"We're family," the Slayer answered. 

"Families don't do this to each other!" the nurse protested, gesturing at the crippled vamp, who offered a timely moan of support. "What kinda sick, twisted—" 

"Listen to me, you deranged bint!" Spike snarled, straining ineffectually against the invisible barrier. "Unless you want to end up in several pieces, get your bloody nose outta my bloody business! You have no sodding idea what he's done!" 

Lisa's eyes flared. "I know it wasn't him!" she shot back. "Look, I might not be in the up with the vampire world—" 

Faith snickered. "Honey, you don't even come close." 

"Why won't you people let me talk?" 

"Because you're being ridiculous!" Hunter snapped. Everyone paused to look at him, but he barely noticed. "That man tried to strangle his own son. He killed a family of three as a warning to his wife. He butchered a young girl without providing the luxury of death. He killed—" 

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, this again? How many times are you guys going to go through the list?" 

"How many times is it going to take for you to realize it's real?" Rosalie fired back. "That man is my uncle. My uncle. Did your uncle ever shove his fingers up your—" 

"Rosalie!" Hunter squeaked. 

"I don't think so. He killed my aunt and he killed Fred. He killed one of my best friends. I was supposed to be the Maid of Honor at Fred's wedding, and he fucking snapped her neck." The young girl's burning eyes focused on Lisa, fury pumping through her veins, her hands balling into fists. "Tell you what, sweetie. Why don't we take his soul out and let him go nuts on the people you love, then we can see how forgiving you really are. I don't care if he's suddenly with a conscience again. I don't care how sorry he is. I don't care about anything, but people I love were hurt, and dealing with him is their business." She took a dangerous step forward. "So invite my uncle inside now or you're gonna find out how hard it is to wash dried plaster from your hair." 

There was a quiet beat. 

"I thought Zack was your uncle," Lisa offered lamely. 

"She means me," Spike snarled. 

"He was my uncle first," Rosalie agreed, shrugging. "He was my uncle before that…thing." She shuddered and tore her eyes away from Zack almost as fast as they had landed on him. "And he's the only one I care to know." 

"Give us the vamp or we're gonna start smashing things," Faith added. 

Spike roared and banged his fists against the barrier. "Invite me in!" 

Zack released a small groan, twitching violently but managing to sit up. "It's all right," he said. "Lisa…let them in." 

There was no hint of martyrdom in his tone, but it might as well have been there for the look on his face. Every muscle in his body was wrought with tension, his movements erratic, despite the pain coursing through his veins. He didn't want to have anything to do with Spike or Buffy—that much was obvious—but he likewise understood there was nothing they could do that wasn't deserved. And he didn't want to fight anymore. They were in the right; whatever they did to him could never compare to what he deserved. He just hoped they had enough mercy to kill him soon, or there wouldn't be anything left to break. 

Lisa could never understand. She hadn't been there. She hadn't seen him.

She hadn't seen any of the horrible things he had done. 

"I am not letting him into my apartment," Lisa said firmly, pointing at Spike. 

"Fair enough," Zack murmured. "Buffy, then." 

"Fuck no! The woman who—" 

Faith raised her crossbow. "You heard the man." 

Zack sighed. "Faith—" 

"Shut up," Rosalie snapped. 

Lisa's eyes bounced between the slayers and the wounded vampire before finally releasing an exasperated sigh and throwing her hands in the air. "Fine," she said. "It's your funeral, Morris. Buffy can come inside." 

A liberated snarl ruptured through the air. No sooner were the words uttered then did Lisa find herself gripped by the throat and held a good six inches off the ground, pressed against the entry wall and on the business end of a vampire's fangs. Her eyes went wide and she jerked violently, her temper replaced with the pure, unadulterated fear. 

"No!" Zack yelped, immediately kicked back down by an unsympathetic Rosalie. 

"I don't know you," Buffy snarled through her fangs. "I don't want to know you. And I don't know if this will sink in. But if you ever interfere in our business again, we will consider you a problem. And Spike deals with problems." 

"She didn't mean anything!" the crippled vampire wailed. "She didn't know! Leave her—" 

Buffy tossed him an apathetic glance. "You lost your right to a group vote." 

"We don't kill humans!" 

"No, we don't," she agreed. "But we do preserve our way of life. Death is a last resort to those who would interfere." 

"Damn, B," Faith mused, whistling. It was deserved. Death had done its number on Buffy. Some things that had previously been taboo were understood now as necessary evils. She might not like the lengths to which she was forced, but she no longer shied away from what needed to be done. Lisa's interference now might appear harmless, but in a different time on a grander scale, it could come at an unforgivable price. And Buffy, protector of the world, would not put her Order at stake. 

Family came first. 

"I hope we understand each other," Buffy said shortly before issuing a brutal blow to Lisa's head and rendering the nurse unconscious. "All right. Faith, can you grab Zack?" 

"I thought I was holding the crossbow." 

"You are. Spike will take him from here." The blonde licked her lips and rubbed her arms, doing her best to keep from shivering. The thought of touching Zack made her skin crawl. 

"Where are we going?" Hunter asked softly. 

Buffy met Spike's eyes. There was nothing there but pride. 

"We'll tell you when we figure that out."


	39. Chapter 39

He hadn't thought it possible. Not when Cordelia first told him, not in the nine months that followed, not even during the labor and the unmistakable screams of a woman giving birth. He'd held his daughter, but it hadn't clicked. Not until this moment—until right now. Not until he stood in the freshly painted room with the baby-pink walls, staring at the sleeping face of his infant daughter. Cordelia had truly been pregnant; it hadn't been a dream. The girl in the bassinette was his. His daughter, with her little fingers, toes, and the strands of dark brown hair on her head. 

He was truly a father. 

A smile tugged on Wright's mouth, a hand absently reaching to stroke the length of Baby Kelly's cheek. He'd been a father for seventeen years, of course. It amazed him at times that Rosalie had turned out as sound as she had. Not that she didn't have her problems, and he still hadn't confronted how he truly felt about her being the Slayer, but she'd been raised in a world where monsters lived. He'd never wanted this for her—he'd always wanted her to have the opportunity of a normal life…but there was no normal for them. This was normal, and in the midst of absolute chaos, he'd had a hand in creating something perfect. 

More children had never been an option for him. He'd never given the matter any thought before Cordelia, too busy hopping from location to location, destroying everything in sight while trying to maintain enough of himself to still be considered human. Not once had he considered settling down, even when he knew he should. Stopping hadn't seemed possible once he started. He couldn't sleep knowing there were still creatures like Darla out there. Creatures doing to others what had been done to him. He'd take out as many as possible, or fucking die trying. 

Meeting Spike had changed everything—as though his life had been lived through black-and-white lenses. He hadn't wanted to like the man, but he had. He hadn't been looking for love when he met Cordelia, but that was what he found. He hadn't sought anything permanent when he'd come to Los Angeles all those years ago, but now he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. 

And now a daughter. He had a baby girl. It wasn't the litter of kids he and Amber had discussed once upon a time, when he was a different man with a different life—a life he'd see as a prison now. Amber had given him the greatest lesson of all—life wasn't predetermined, and it couldn't be planned, despite the best intentions. 

He'd said goodbye to her a long time ago, but in looking at his newborn daughter, he couldn't help but feel a pang for the life he once wanted. 

And a breath of relief it hadn't come to pass. 

Life couldn't be predicted. He was no longer a naive, smiling youth, nor was he a dark, jaded soul bent on utter destruction. He was a man who had just made a being of pure perfection with the woman he loved. A man with a teenage daughter he loved more than anything in this or any other world, and a baby girl he had to raise. He'd never had a chance to truly be a father. Rosalie's first years were a blur, and by the time he realized he was missing her grow up, she'd already proven herself more stable a force than he'd ever been. He hated thinking he'd done wrong by her, that she had been cheated the fathering affection he intended to bestow upon little Kelly. 

Yet he loved the fact that he had another chance to get it right. 

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" 

Wright turned; Cordelia was leaning against the doorway. There was a glow about her—the sort he heard people mention but hadn't seen, not even on Amber. Until now he'd thought it a myth. 

"She looks like you," he replied. 

"She has your eyes," she countered. 

"Yeah, well, she has your everything else." 

Cordelia shrugged. "What can I say? She takes after her momma." She pursed her lips and took a step forward. "Zack, I know you're not comfortable with this, but the woman just lost everything, and—" 

"Melody?" 

"Yeah. She's not your mother and she doesn't want to be, but her son is broken and might never be better. She has Kelly and her grandkids, but she wants so badly to be a part of your life." 

Wright sighed heavily. "Cordy—" 

"She's been nothing but wonderful. Look what she did to the fourth floor in an hour." She sighed and licked her lips. "She lost everything, Zack. Everything." 

"I know." 

"And—" 

"I like her, all right? I do. I like her a whole goddamn lot." Wright turned away and ran his hand over his jaw, eyes falling on the sleeping infant. "I just…that could've been me, you know? She could've been…and who the hell knows what might've been different. Her son was born with a fucking silver-spoon. I had to earn everything. I wouldn't have made it to college if it weren't for scholarships, and God knows—" 

"Do you regret your life at all?" Cordelia asked softly. 

Wright reeled as though slapped, turning quickly to face her again. "Christ no," he all but gasped. "I fucking love you." 

She smirked. "I fucking love you, too." 

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for what I—" 

"I know, but you wouldn't have lost so much, either." 

"You're worth the pain, honey." He shuddered. "I never thought I'd be here…looking at my daughter…a daughter who's not Rosalie…and feel so…at peace. And I hate it that people had to die to get me here, but Cordelia…you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I just resent what others…my mother was shit-on, Amber was butchered, my son…" He shook hard, hands falling to his sides and balling into fists. "Others had to suffer so I could be happy. And I am. I'm so fucking happy now."

"It's not a crime to be happy, honey," she said. 

"I know. I just…I look at Melody and I think there might've been a way, you know? I might've been able to skip it and still be here. No one would've died—" 

"Well, call me selfish, but you'd be with Amber then, and I want you here." 

"I would've left her." 

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Zack—" 

"No, I mean it. Or she would've left me. We weren't made to last, babe. Not like you and me." Wright sighed heavily. "She would've given me Rosalie. But I'm…I'm this." 

"You're this because of what happened." 

"I—" 

"Sweetie, it's all right. I don't hold anything against you."

"There's nothing to hold against me," Wright insisted. "Believe me, I've put myself through the fucking ringer, but every time I come to the same conclusion. You're it, dollface, whether you like it or not." 

Cordelia was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "You feel it, too, don't you?" 

"Feel what?" 

"The change. It's in the air." She inhaled sharply. "Everything's going to be different now." 

"Everything is already different." 

"Faith is staying." 

Wright's jaw tightened. Though a few remarks had been made in passing, they hadn't sat down yet to discuss his somewhat sordid history with the slayer. Cordelia wasn't the type to worry over infidelity, but she was likewise territorial. If they weren't careful things could get even tenser than they already were. "It's definite?" 

"Hunter talked her into it." 

Well, that was just dandy. "It'll be good for Rosalie." 

"You don't have a problem with that?" 

"I have more of a problem with Hunter than I do Faith," he noted sourly. "Faith doesn't want to get into my daughter's pants." 

"At least not without a few drinks." 

"Right…what?" 

Cordelia smirked. "So does your negativity for Hunter stem from premonition, or are you one of those dads who thinks every creature with a penis has the hots for your daughter?" 

He scowled. "You think you're funny." 

"No, I know I'm funny."

"It's the way he looks at her. Why couldn't they have sent a more age-appropriate watcher?" 

"With your luck, it'd be a dirty old man, which is much worse than a young guy. Believe me." Cordelia sighed, her eyes falling on their sleeping daughter. "Things are going to be rough for her." 

Wright nodded but didn't reply. Things had already been rough on Rosalie—Christ, on all of them. He didn't want to consider what the future would bring. 

Especially when they weren't out of the shadows just yet. 

*~*~* 

In downtown Los Angeles, there were any number of buildings rendered vacant due to neglected leases, apathetic owners, condemnation, and a variety of other reasons, which made it the perfect place to dump a body…or in this case, a vampire. After kicking in a series of doors, Spike found one suiting his needs. It was a sub-ground apartment in an abandoned complex, void of windows or furniture, or anything one would require in daily life.

Spike dumped him unceremoniously on the ground and ignored the answering grunt. Then he turned to Buffy and the Three Stooges, the latter of whom stared at him as though expecting explanation or a game plan when he had none.

Thankfully, that was where Buffy came in.

"So…what?" Rosalie asked. "We just vamp-napped him so he can rot in this hellhole?"

Buffy licked her lips. "I’ll go get Willow," she said, her eyes never leaving Spike’s.

"All right," he replied.

"Willow?" Faith demanded. "You two aren’t gonna go homicidal on her ass, are you? I don’t think she meant any harm." 

Buffy smiled without humor. "No," she assured the other slayer. "But we do need her to make sure Zack stays put. I don’t want anyone but us finding a way here until we know what to do with him."

"She stuck her bloody nose where it doesn’t belong," Spike muttered.

"Spike—"

"Well, she did, Buffy! She must’ve bloody known how we’d feel about it, right? Why else wouldn’t she come to us?"

Zack tried to moan a response but he didn’t get very far.

Buffy held up a hand. "She had her reasons, I’m sure. She wouldn’t do something like that without them."

"Right. So sodding unlike her, innit?"

"That’s not fair."

"No, it’s realistic. I—"

Buffy took a step forward and wrapped her fingers around Spike’s wrist. Contact always had a way of calming him down, and this was no exception. "Spike," she said softly, "I need you to calm down. If I’m going to leave him with you, I need to know you’re not going to fly off the handle."

Zack rolled over completely at that. "You’re leaving?" he demanded harshly, tearing his eyes away the second they clashed with hers.

"Shut your gob," Spike hissed.

"I’ll be back with Willow," she said. "We’ll get this handled."

Faith licked her lips, her eyes falling to the broken vampire. "Think I should stay, B?" she asked. "Nonbiased party and all?"

"And here I thought you’d want blood for the ‘having been murdered’ thing," she replied dryly.

The dark-haired slayer shrugged. "Can’t blame a girl for tryin’," she replied, before walking over to the living carcass and kicking him hard in the head and rendering him unconscious. "Yeah, guess I ain’t a good fit for the job."

*~*~*

She’d been told by other witches in her coven, other teachers at Hogwarts, that she would just know. It was a hokey thing—something she’d never put too much stock in, but with her hand on her belly, the truth couldn’t be avoided. She heard it through her skin, felt the gentle hum of a heartbeat against her palm. It was so faint she might have mistaken it for indigestion.

But indigestion it was not.

"Oh, my God," Willow whispered, her cheeks flaming.

Pregnant. She couldn’t be pregnant. She and Sam had…well, had a lot of sex, but it had been the safe kind. No broken condoms or…well, okay, no condoms, but she was on the pill, except she sometimes missed her dosage, and she did all the witchy stuff she was supposed to do to elude pregnancy, except sometimes she forgot because Willow and sex didn’t cross roads very often and oh my crap, she was pregnant.

"This is a whole new thing," she whispered.

"I’ll say."

She whirled around so quickly she nearly fell on her butt, which couldn’t be good for the baby. Buffy was standing in the Hyperion doorway.

And then everything came crashing back.

"You went to see Lisa," Willow said softly.

"That’s right."

"And Zack was there."

The Slayer nodded. "Again with the right."

"Look, Buffy—"

"Save it. I know…look, I know things have been crazy and, well, crazy. I’m not thrilled with what you did, but I’m not going to blow a fuse. You had your reasons." Buffy licked her lips. "Just don’t do it again."

"Won’t," Willow agreed promptly. Her hand still rested across her stomach.

"And to make it up to me, I could use a little favor…"  
*~*~*

"Spike…" 

Spike's fangs descended without hesitation, his enraged, yellow eyes landing on Zack fully for the first time. "Talk to me again, and I'll rip your tongue out." 

Zack winced but decided to brave it anyway. "I just want to know why." 

"Not much for listenin', are you?" Spike snarled, his feet setting into a hard pace across the small expanse of the room. 

"Why didn't you kill me?" 

Another roar tickled the elder vampire's throat. "What the bloody hell do you think?" he spat. "The look in your eyes now. That's why I didn't kill you. What you did to us…to her…I want you to feel it. Every day for the rest of your miserable life, I want you to feel it." 

Zack shuddered. "I know…that's not what I meant. You had chance after chance to kill me. Why the hell didn't you take it?" 

Spike's jaw tightened. He turned away. 

"If you'd killed me—" 

"I know, you miserable sod. I bloody well know it." Spike huffed. "That's my cross to bear. Too bloody weak to kill you." A pause. "It's not a mistake I'll make it again." 

"Then why don't you do it? You don't want me here, I don't want me here…end it for both of us." 

Spike inhaled sharply. "Because neither of us deserve rest." 

*~*~* 

Buffy's specifications were…well, specific, but nothing Willow couldn't handle. No one outside the Hyperion could enter Zack's new prison, which would keep Lisa at bay. Similarly, Zack couldn't leave unless he was invited to do so by the others. There were no windows and no pointy objects; nothing to tempt him to suicide. It was the last request Spike made that lent Willow pause…but she owed them, so she obliged without question. 

There was one last errand she needed to complete. This one was personal. 

When the apartment door opened, though, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the distraught nurse. It was obvious the afternoon had been spent crying over her failures. "They took him," Lisa said without preliminaries. "Willow, you have to help me." 

"No." 

"Didn't you hear me? They have him!" 

"And with them is where he'll stay." Willow licked her lips and tried not to wiggle under Lisa's stare. "I know you've heard all of this before, so it's not going to mean anything, and I also know he's your friend, but the people he hurt need blood now."

"I don't care. I—"

Willow held up a hand and placed it against the nurse's forehead. "I know. That ends now." 

A crackle of energy spread between them, exhaustion battling necessity. Lisa needed to see, needed to feel, needed to know. 

And with the memories and the feelings, the loss and the pain that Willow fed her, know she would.

*~*~*

"Wait!" Hunter gasped as he bent over the sidewalk and placed his hands on his knees. "I just need…a moment."

He didn’t look up when two sets of eyes turned to glare.

"We’re almost there," Rosalie whined.

"I know," he heaved.

"C’mon!" Faith chided. "It’s only ten more blocks. We’ve already gone forty."

"I know," he growled. His lack of breath made it less harsh than he had intended.

"Wow," the youngest slayer teased. "With a watcher like this, who needs demons?"

"Yeah, well…" Hunter stood upright and took a couple deep breaths. "Maybe if I had had a vagina the powers would have called me up for duty."

There was a notable pause. In unison the girls replied "Not likely," before breaking out in snickers.

"Sod off!" He muttered fiercely before storming on toward the Hyperion.

The girls made quick work of catching up and surpassing him. "So," Faith called. "If you were a chick, do you think you would go for boners or become a lez?"

"Seriously?" Hunter snapped. "That’s the question running through you head? That?"

"Oh," the brunette mocked. "You got something better there, Nicky?"

"Yes. Such as why did the vampire with slayer powers have to run off in the only vehicle we had? Bet she could have ran faster than traffic." He muttered, but was sure the girls heard "silly bint" tacked on at the end.

"Because she was holding the keys." Faith turned around and flashed a grin. "Next."

The walk was silent for a few minutes as the trio trekked on. All eyes were alert and making sure there was nobody tailing them as they made their way back to headquarters.

"Actually," Rosalie began slowly. "I do have a question that I’ve been wondering about."

"Well, spit it out, Sweetcheeks," Faith responded.

Rosalie slowed her pace so that Hunter would be in earshot. "It’s just that I’ve done some thinking, you know? And I figure that I most definitely the most trained slayer to ever get the call you know?" She barely took a breath and she continued on in high pitch. "So, I was thinking since I know all the moves and have a crew of demon hunters literally down the hall from me that there really isn’t a point in me having a watcher you know? You know, right?"

Faith had came to a stop to stand next to Hunter, who was only mildly breathless as he looked at Rosalie. "You want me to go."

"It’s just that I don’t think I need you."

"Trust me babe," Faith interjected. She sighed dramatically. "God, I hate being nice to people to their faces, but you played my hand." She made a point to not look at the man by her side as she spoke. "This guy is the greatest gift the Council could have sent you. You think I’m too big for a Watcher?" She waited for the girl to shake her head. "I don’t think so. But they’ve sent me around the would with this guy because he knows his shit. He’s a walking fucking Encyclopedia Dementedia and when backed in a corner he could put up a decent fight. Hell he’s practically the Council’s Wonderboy. Pretty sure they’ve pumped him with more shit than that 007. So, before your ego carries you off to Burbank, keep in mind that you ain’t the only player in the game." With that she continued on toward the Hyperion.

"I didn’t mean—"

"I know, kid," Faith stated as the Hyperion slowly made its way into sight. "You guy the super powers and you go on a trip. Trust me when I say been there and I have the tee shirt, coffee mug and the poster. But you don’t need to make the same mistakes. Stay in school. Listen to your watcher. Obey your elders and make him wear a condom. All that shit will keep in the know. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good." With that they made their way to the front doors and took the liberty to let themselves inside.

The lobby was uncharacteristically empty when they arrived, but the silence seemed a welcomed gift. "So, I nominate a change of clothes and a drink," Hunter purposed.

"Agreed." Faith turned to Rosalie. "Know any good bars?"

"Faith!" Hunter scoffed.

Rosalie beamed. "Caritas is pretty awesome and I can totally tag along."

"No taking my slayer to a bar!"

"Why not?" Faith said with a shrug.

And that was the last words spoken. In an instant Faith was gone, her body hurled across the room and thrown into much-abused wall.

"Huh?" spoke Rosalie and Hunter in unison. Then Kelly’s frame was seen holding the dark slayer up by the neck.

"Well, I’m so fucking touched that you had the heart to go screw with my husband now that he’s nice soulful," Kelly spat.

"What do you mean?" Rosalie cried.

Kelly tossed faith to the ground and turned to her niece. "She’s…." She tried to control her trembling body, with little success. "I can smell him all over her."

Faith and regained her composure and made her move. Kelly went flying toward the sofas, where her flailing body overturned two. "That’s because I was doing the job your maker wanted to. The one where you weren’t invited." She massaged her neck tenderly as the vampire stood up and glared. "Bitch."

"Whoa!" Rosalie said rushing to stand between the women. "Buffy and Spike decided that he needed to be somewhere…supervised."

"Where?" Kelly demanded.

"I don’t think they wanted you going over for a visit in your obviously delusional and emotional state," Faith barked.

"Where?" she growled.

"Spike’s with him," Hunter answered. "Willow converted a hotel room down around that shopping center across the highway. They wanted to keep him safe from…himself."

Kelly hung her head in shame. "Yeah."

"Maybe we should get you your own padded room, huh?"

"I’ve never wanted to kill a human so bad in my life."

"I dare you."

"Bring it!"

Rosalie shouted over the cat fight. "Please!"

The women listened and turned their separate ways. Kelly went back toward the kitchen while Faith stormed out the front. Hunter and Rosalie were left to stare helplessly at one another.

"Can we still go to Caritas?"

"Only if you promise to go to school tomorrow."

She sighed in defeat. "Deal."

Hunter beamed. "Just let me change," he said as he headed up the stairs. He only made it halfway up to the second floor before he ran smack into Wesley. "Oh, hey. Hi, Wes."

"Hello," he said lowly.

"Umm…would you be interested in grabbing a drink? Rosalie and I are heading out to some place called Caritas. Care to join?"

"No. Actually, I decided that I’d go out for a while. There’s a few things I’d like to take care of. For Fred, you know?"

"Sure, sure. You need some help."

"You’ve helped more than enough, Nicholas. More than enough."

*~*~*

"What?"

"I know," Willow wailed.

"You’re pregnant?" Buffy had nearly hit an oncoming car before swerving over to the side of the road.

"I know!"

"How? When? Who? Huh?"

"Sex. In Orange County. With Sam. And yeah." Willow was cradling her face in her hands.

"I must be the worst friend in the world," Buffy sighed as she leaned over to hug her crying friend.

"I just found out," Willow explained. "Completely with the just." She looked up at her former best friend with tear-filled eyes. "I don’t know what to do."

"Well, you know the options. I would say that Kelly would adopt, but after everything I don’t really know."

"No!" Even she was shocked by her forcefulness. "I mean, I think I want it. I mean, I always said that while I’m extra prop with the pro-choice, I don’t think I could…I can you know…I’m gonna have a baby."

"Wow."

"Wow yeah."

"So…Willow’s gonna have a baby."

"Baby having Willow is me?"

"I guess."

"Yeah."

"So, who’s Sam?"

"He’s the United States Congressional representative for whatever district holds Orange County."

"You banged a congressman?"

"And got pregnant."

"Well, have you told him?"

"Should I tell him?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…oh, god. This was exactly what Josh warned me about."

"That sleeping with Sam would get you pregnant?"

"That I would ruin his career and life."

"Sam’s or Josh’s."

"I’m betting both."

"Well…sounds like you’re in a bit of a sticky wicket."

"You’re telling me."

*~*~*

"You can leave you know."

"Stop talking," Spike growled.

"I’m in a fucking padded room. What can you do except snap and put me out of my misery."

"Shut up."

"Or what? You’re gonna beat me again? You think I mind the pain. Do it. It’ll make us both feel better."

When Spike whirled around, Zack grew silent. He saw it all. And none of it made him feel better. All he wanted to do was wish himself into dust.

*~*~*

"Well," Xander said snapping his cell phone shut. "Couldn’t get the Buffster on the phone."

Anya shrugged as she buckled her seatbelt. "She’s probably having sex with her mate right now."

"Thanks," Xander muttered as he opened the phone and started dialing once again. "Well, I’ll try Willow."

"Yeah, she could be having sex with a guy or a girl right now. Maybe her sexual confusion would cause her to be available right now."

"Ahn!" Xander shrieked. "Enough with mixing sex with my friends."

"Just saying."

"Well, she went straight to voicemail. Might as well head on up to L.A. and see what’s happening."

*~*~*

"Hola, mi amigo…Sam."

"That’s impressive, Josh. Can I use that one with constituents back home?"

"Shut up. I’m running on absolutely no sleep, thanks to your booty call. And now I have to go and help Donna explain all of the details of our little magical escapade with the NSA director and some other…security dude."

"Don’t call her a booty call and what?"

"Yeah, I just hope Donna put away all of our purchases."

"Well, I was calling to see if you could give me Willow’s number. My phone kinda got…"

"Destroyed?" Josh supplied.

"Yeah."

The curly haired man sighed into the phone. "You said goodbye. You both agreed it was all for the best."

"I know. I just…I just wanted to make sure everything was going okay back there. You know?"

"Well, I don’t have it on me. I try not to keep that stuff anywhere near me here."

"Could you just ask Donna?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"Just remember Sam. You said goodbye."

"Hasta luego, Josh."

"Wha?"

"See you later, Josh."

"Yeah. Hasta Winnebago back at ya."

*~*~*

Willow couldn’t stop her nose from wrinkling in disgust if she wanted to. The pile of filth in the corner looked like a giant tear that had somehow sprouted a human-shaped object. And though it had been a long time, she suddenly remembered just why Spike had once been so scary. He looked seconds away from ripping someone into shreds. She just hoped it wasn’t her.

"All right, so…" She licked her lips and approached one of the walls. "You’re sure you wanna do this?"

Spike nodded without so much as shooting Zack a glance. "Bloody positive."

"What are you doing?" Zack moaned.

"Shut your gob."

Willow inhaled deeply and pressed her palm to the pale plaster. Her stomach lurched but she ignored it. The punishment fit the crime, she knew…hell, it didn’t even come close to what Zack deserved. Still, her memories of Angel notwithstanding, she couldn’t help but feel this was especially cruel.

This was downright torture.

"Abracadabra," she murmured, a spark shooting out her palm and brightening the walls with life. And just like that, the deed was done. Every inch of Zack’s prison was now colored with moving photographs—a view of his wife, his suffering Kelly, as she moved through her day. On another wall was Rosie, who was currently occupied in one of Giles’ larger texts. On another wall was small William, his throat still purple and tender, his eyes looking to be trapped between crying jags. On the final wall flashed a series of memories—depictions of the last few weeks in all their gruesome detail. A murdered family positioned outside the Hyperion. A wounded Rosalie lying helpless in an ally. Faith all but dead. Buffy as they’d found her—torn and violated. William screaming as his father released him. Fred’s lifeless body falling to the ground. Over and over again they flashed, and as soon as the horror in Zack’s face faded, the sound of his horror pierced the air and shook the ground.

"Oh God!" he screamed. "No, no, no! Make it stop!"

Spike snickered and pushed himself off the wall. "And the other?" he asked, not wasting a glance on his one-time friend. "You work it properly?"

Willow couldn’t help it; her attention was on Zack. He had nowhere to look. Nowhere was safe for his eyes.

"Red!"

She snapped back to herself quickly, though perhaps not as quickly for Spike’s liking. "What? Yes! Yes, I-I have it worked out. As of right now, Zack is bound to this place."

Zack’s wide, tear-stained eyes hopped between his sire and the witch as though looking at them long enough would change the words he’d heard. "What?" he demanded.

"You’re bound," she said flatly. "So…home sweet home?"

"No," he begged. "No, you can’t do this. You can’t leave me here—with this. You can’t make me watch this. This is—this is…"

"What?" Spike barked at last, his eyes blazing a demonic yellow. "Cruel? It’s sodding cruel that you should watch what you put them through? Yeah. Suspect they got that memo when you—"

"Stop!"

"Not that simple, mate. You have no right to ask us anything."

"I came with you willingly!"

"An’ you knew this was comin’. You knew we’d punish you."

"I thought you’d kill me!"

"No," Spike snarled, "you didn’t. You knew it was going to be this. We wouldn’t let you off that quick, would we? I bloody told you when we stuffed that righteous soul back up your arse that it wouldn’t be simple. You don’t deserve it. Not after what you did."

Zack choked a sob, his eyes tearing away.

"What you deserve," Spike continued. "Is this." He gestured at the walls. "You deserve to see them—all of them. An’ you’re gonna. Will took your window away, so you can forget ashes to ashes. An’ anything sharp has been removed. You heard the lady—you’re grounded, mate. So get used to it."

"I’ve also invoked a charm that is affected by viewing," Willow added, feeling both reluctant and eager all at once. It was difficult to describe, but the images on the wall were enough to remind her why they’d gone to this length in the first place. "That is, if he tries not to watch, the volume goes up. That’s conditional only to this room, though, so the neighbors won’t be bothered."

Zack whimpered. "Willow, please…"

"I also brought a bag of blood."

"I won’t eat it!" he declared defiantly.

Willow met Spike’s eyes, then broke away with a shrug. "I could always make it so these scenes play in your mind when you close your eyes," she said. "With the increase in volume."

"I just want to die!"

"Don’t you get it?" she demanded. "We know that!"

"Why on earth would we give you what you want most of all?" Spike demanded in disgust.

"And if worst comes to worst, there’s always a special incantation that will just magick the blood from the bag and into your belly," Willow said. She turned to Spike. "I could invoke that, if you like."

He paused and arched a brow. "An’ I suppose you’re hoping I’d forget you helped him mend his bones?"

"Well, that would be nice."

"Not my favorite person right now, Red."

"I know. But in my defense, I was having a hormonal surge." She shrugged and flashed a helpless grin. "Pregnant woman defense?"

Spike’s eyes widened; so did Zack’s.

"Bloody hell," the former murmured.

"That about sums it up."

"One helluva defense, I’ll grant you." Spike inhaled deeply and nodded, waving at Zack like unwanted trash. "Sure, whatever you do’s fine."

"If it goes twelve hours without being touched, it’ll automatically be consumed. Only by then, it’ll be all gross." She frowned. "Well, grosser than, you know, fresh blood. I guess. And it’ll probably give him one hell of a case of indigestion, but that’s the best I can do."

"You’re pregnant?" Zack asked weakly.

Willow ignored him, her eyes on the elder vampire. "So, we square?"

Spike nodded shortly. "S’pose that wraps it up."

"Good. ‘Cause I kinda wanna get out of here."

He cast the younger vampire one final glare. "You an’ me both."


	40. Chapter 40

Faith threw open the door to the fridge, tossing Hunter a narrow glance. "Looks like we’re down to Gatorade and bagged blood."

"Blood?"

She shrugged. "Hotel full of vamps, my friend. Wanna glass of AB Neg?"

He made a face. "No water, then?"

"Not unless you want it from the tap."

"And there’s no civilization to be had."

Faith arched a brow seized a bottle of fruit-flavored Gatorade and shook it up. "What’s wrong with tap?"

"It’s not bottled."

"And that’s a problem?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I like bottled." Hunter shot her a ragged grin and tossed his shirt over his shoulder. She hadn’t noticed he’d stripped it off his chest until that second, but the hungry woman in Faith couldn’t help but take an appreciative detour down his body. Say what you wanted about him, but damn, the boy was fine. "Any word on the others?" he asked.

"Super Slayer and company?"

"The reason we had to walk eighty blocks home, yes."

Faith shrugged again and popped the cap on her Gatorade. "Funny enough, B doesn’t see the need to check in with big sis when she’s out on the town. I’m guessing she and her sugar daddy are busy workin’ up the mojo to keep our vamp-napped trouble maker right where he is. And they might have a word or two with the resident witch after."

"About helping Zack heal?"

"Spike looked like he wanted to kill somethin’," Faith observed, shrugging and licking her lips. "Might be off the hot stuff, but I know that look and vamps don’t lose it unless they put something in the ground."

Hunter nodded. "So…"

"Yeah."

"Rosalie really wants me gone."

"No, she doesn’t."

"I really think she does."

"You’re wrong."

"I’m not wrong. She wants you to take charge so she doesn’t have to associate with me." Hunter huffed a breath and snagged Faith’s Gatorade from her hands, shooting back a gulp before she could protest. "I appreciate what you said outside, but—"

"Your fragile male ego has a boo-boo because Little Miss Slayer doesn’t want to take solo lessons from big daddy?"

"You have a way of summarizing complex situations in an incredibly patronizing manner."

Faith curtsied. "It’s a gift."

"How can I make her listen to me if all she wants to do is show me the door?"

"Wow."

"What?"

"You really think you’re the only watcher who’s ever had this problem."

Hunter shifted uncomfortably. "No," he said. "I just think—"

"You’re not even the first watcher who’s had the hots for a piece of underage meat, either."

"Yes, thank you, I work for the Watcher’s Council."

"You’d think they’d talk about watcher/slayer conduct there."

"They do."

"And cite times when watchers have been disciplined for sticking their hands in the cookie jar."

Hunter nodded again. "They do that, too."

Faith snatched back the stolen bottle and raised her brows at him appraisingly. "Look, Nancy, the girl’s just been through hell and back, and she hasn’t checked her tickets yet, but the trip might have another stop before it’s all over. Don’t you think she might want a little breathing room before you start heaving down her neck and preachin’ to her about sacred fucking duty?"

"I thought we’d gotten close."

"Not as close as you want, though, right?"

"Faith, stop it."

"And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You ship back to those assholes in England and you know all they’ll do is FedEx her another you. Or are you just worried your honor won’t hold up to temptation and want any excuse to get the hell outta Dodge?"

"I could really do without the remarks about Rosalie."

"But that’s what this is about, isn’t it?" she demanded. "The girl gives you wood and you know you two are gonna be in all sorts of life-or-death scenarios, sweating and dressed to fuck and you’re afraid you won’t be able to stop yourself. Man up, Nancy."

Hunter threw his hands in the air. "Why the hell do I even bother with you?"

"Because you know I cut it to you straight. I don’t feed you bullshit." Faith tossed back another drink. "You bother with me ‘cause I’m the slayer who can ride your dick and doesn’t give a shit if you fantasize about jailbait during."

"That’s enough."

"Tell me where I’ve been wrong." A beat settled over them; Hunter’s eyes shifted uneasily, but he didn’t say anything. "Look, you cut and run now and Rosalie’ll just get landed with someone else. Giles ain’t about to come out of retirement and you know those asses won’t ask me to be the girl’s role model."

Hunter snickered but still said nothing.

"So, as I said, man the fuck up. Don’t take it personally. She’s not gonna be a peach every day."

"At this point I’ll take any day."

"Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath or nothin’. These things happen slow. Take me and Wes. He had to kidnap me one time."

"And as I recall you tortured him."

"Yeah, and as I understand he wasn’t my number one fan for a while after that."

Hunter laughed. "No."

"It took Angel getting all happy again before he didn’t just plain didn’t like me. Which, granted, was a step up from hate." Faith frowned and took a glance around the foyer, tipping the bottle to her lips again. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He’s taking a walk."

"A walk? Now?"

He nodded. "Yes, I stopped him outside to see if he was heading to any place with a decent cup of coffee. He…" A cold pause settled between them; the color drained from Hunter’s face. "Oh no."

"What?"

"I can’t believe this."

"What?"

"I’m tired. I’m overly tired. I didn’t see it because I’m overly tired."

Faith scowled and tossed the rest of her Gatorade into Hunter’s face. "Hey, Special Ed! Wanna share with the class?"

"He took the crossbow. Wright’s crossbow."

Her eyes went wide. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No!"

"Are you kidding me?!"

Hunter blew out a bubble of purple juice and wiped his hair off his brow. "Do you think he knows where Zack is?"

"I think there’s a good chance that I’m gonna kick your ass," Faith muttered, navigating around him and running for the weapon’s cabinet. "Going out for fucking coffee, are you high?"

"I’m overly tired!"

"Yeah," Faith snapped, slamming the cabinet door shut after snagging a particularly nasty looking blade. It shivered hard enough to shatter, but somehow remained intact. "And I’m gonna kick your ass."

"It’s not my fault!" Hunter replied weakly, but even he didn’t believe it.

It didn’t matter regardless; she was gone, and the lobby fell quiet.

*~*~*

It wasn’t often this happened, but Buffy felt weak. She sat in the minivan, watching the rearview mirror for Willow’s familiar head to poke onto the street, and hating the helplessness seeping through her veins. She knew it was normal not wanting to confront the man who had terrorized her family, murdered her friends, and raped her body, but she felt weak nonetheless. The situation was too strange, even for familiar territory, and she quite frankly didn’t completely trust herself not to fly off the handle and beat him until he was nothing but a bag of bones.

It hadn’t been like this before.

Buffy released a deep breath and glanced to the mirror again. This time, she wasn’t disappointed. Willow walked quickly across the parking lot, talking to an invisible someone Buffy knew was Spike. It was over, then. It was done. Their last errand. There had been Lisa to deal with—and hopefully the memories, images, and emotions of their warped little family would keep the nosybody nurse out of their hair for a while—and now there was this. The solution she and Spike had conjured to punish Zack. It was about the cruelest thing either could imagine, save for some truly drastic measures that would push the laws of nature to their bending point, and it was enough, they felt, to give their friends the pound of flesh they needed in order to heal. Once upon a time, she might have been contented in telling herself Zack wasn’t Zack when he didn’t have a soul, and might have even believed punishing him for his counterpart’s sins was an unjust method of earning peace. Once upon a time she might have slept well knowing his guilt would do him in…

But this wasn’t then, and Buffy understood that. She likewise understood the people Zack had hurt, herself most definitely included, needed closure. They needed to know the demon inside the man had gotten its dues, and torturing him was the closest they’d get.

It might not be pretty, but they’d earned blood.

The passenger door flew open and Spike slid in beside her. Willow helped herself into the backseat.

"It’s done?" Buffy asked.

"It’s done," the redhead agreed.

"Good." She shifted in her seat and licked her lips. "And I guess we’ll come back tomorrow to give him more blood."

Spike nodded stoically. On this topic, Buffy assumed her husband would be unusually tightlipped.

"Just a question," Willow ventured.

"Shoot."

"How long are we gonna hold him there?"

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance.

"As long as it takes," she said.

*~*~*

Noises. Sounds. Images. Pain. All over. Pain. It throbbed in his head and screamed in his ears, and no matter where he looked, it wouldn’t go away.

Kelly. Rosie. William. Fred. Rosalie. Strangers. Strange moms with strange children, people he’d selected for the hell of it. Gone. All gone. All his fault.

Zack couldn’t get the images to fade. He couldn’t make them go away.

This was going to drive him to madness, he knew it.

"Hello, Zack."

The voice seemed imagined—unreal. The voice seemed somewhere outside of himself.

But when he looked up, there was someone there. A face that wasn’t on the walls—a face he remembered. Wesley.

And he was aiming a wooden arrow at his chest.

*~*~*

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She knew they were done. It was over and now all that was left was getting off her knees and getting on with her life. Get on being the mother and woman everyone depended on. 

Kelly knew she had all the excuses to last her a lifetime. But then she remembered she had two young children that didn’t have the opportunity to mope for a century before they moved on. Their time was precious. And her time with them was to last the infinities she was to live after them. And she was grateful to everyone who stepped up for her and stood in her place. 

But it was time to be a mother again. 

William was in his room pouring over his books. He had always been a quiet child with a tendency to isolate himself. Since his incident with Zack, she wasn’t even sure if he’d spoken. Cried yes, but not spoken. 

"William, honey?" 

The child looked up with his big, beautiful eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly turned to pick up an armful of books. 

"Yes, William. We can read now. Would you like to find Rosie and have her read some of them to you?"

He gave a quick nod and thrust the books at his mother. She grabbed them in one hand and scooped up her son in the other. Rosie was going to be in her Papa’s room down the hall, and she made the quick stroll to the open door. "Rosie, why don’t you come downstairs and read with us?" 

The little girl immediately shut her book and looked up at her mother. The little hazel eyes were identical to her father’s. For the first time in days, Kelly forced herself to meet her child’s piercing gaze. A long pause took place before the blonde haired girl stood up and walked to her mother and brother. "William can read himself," Rosie reasoned as the family turned to head downstairs. 

"I know, but it helps him practice if we read to him." 

"He has all his books memorized." 

"Yes, but William gets to choose what we read and these are the books he chooses." 

Rosie was quiet as they made their way downstairs to the front foyer. The couches were back in place, and they found a big comfy one and flopped down. "Why do we read these kiddie books? They aren’t real." 

Kelly looked at her little girl. She knew this was her daughter’s problem from the beginning. "You know why these books look kinda worn and used?" Both children shook their heads. "That’s because these were the same books that were read to Rose when she was little." Boy and girl both gasped in surprise. Kelly smiled. "Yeah, Rosie doesn’t remember, but these books were what taught her to read." 

Rosie looked at the worn children’s tales for several minutes. "Okay, then. Let’s get started." She flashed her mom and brother a grin. 

*~*~* 

As he began to run out the kitchen door, Hunter was thrown backward into the refrigerator. Before he could regain his bearings, Wright had him by the neck. "What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?" 

Hunter gurgled a response and the grip dissipated on his throat. "What are you talking about?" he repeated. 

"Rosalie. What the fuck did you do and why the fuck is she crying?" Wright sounded angry, confused and disgusted. 

"Nothing!" Hunter managed to wrestle the demon hunter’s hands off of him, but was unable to get the man to move enough to get him away from the fridge. "We had a couple words is all." 

"Explain." 

Hunter sighed. "After arriving back from dealing with Zack, we abandoned our original idea and headed—" 

"Original idea?" 

The Watcher groaned. An over-protective father and demon hunter would of course demand every detail. "We had originally planned to head to Caritas for a drink." Before the other man could react. "Better judgment prevailed." 

"Better judgment?" 

"Mainly, Cordelia overheard and threatened to castrate me if I happened to take her daughter to a bar." 

Wright sneered. "That’s my girl." His scowl returned. "Then what?" 

"Well, I suggested we head to the training room and practice. Things went fine…" He eyed the skepticism on the elder man’s face. "They went terrible, but a lot of that has to deal with—" 

"You!" Wright growled. "She needs fucking time to deal with everything. You can’t fucking expect her to be ready to jump into Slayerhood with all this other fucking shit going on." 

"I know," Hunter said softly. "Rosalie is stressed and grieving. In a matter of moments she has lost her aunt, her friend, her innocence—" 

"Preaching to the fucking choir, boy." 

Hunter shook his head and continued. "A normal girl would be stressed with a new sister coming in and disturbing the family balance, but—" 

"She’s not a normal fucking girl." 

"I know." Hunter sighed. "And as for her newly Chosen status, I will do my best to take things as slowly as possible. But, time is of the essence." 

"What the fuck ever! Give her a break." 

"I’ll try," he said sincerely. "But as one of the greatest demon hunters of the age, you know that evil doesn’t take breaks. Forces such as Wolfram and Hart are working as we speak to devise plans to come after her and bring unspeakable evil to this universe." Hunter sighed. "And you know that your daughter will have to play a pivotal part in defeating those evils." 

"She’s not working solo. I’ve been doing this shit long before you started up. So don’t go acting like she’s the only fucking thing out there fighting the good fight." 

Hunter paused. "I’m sorry, Zack." The other man blinked. "This is going to be hard on you, too." 

"What the fuck ever." 

"No," Hunter placed a hand on Wright’s shoulder. "It isn’t fair. You had two more years of her childhood stolen away in an instant." He shook his head when the demon hunter opened his mouth. "I’m not here to take your daughter away. But I am here to help guide her. Guide her on a path that you can’t always follow. She isn’t just your little girl now. She’s the Slayer and she’s going to be doing things and go places you may not agree with." 

"I’m her fucking father and if you think I’m going to just sit back and—" 

"You can’t just send her to her room anymore. You can’t ground her or take away her phone. In many ways her role on this planet outweighs yours. Outweighs all of us. While she struggles to deal with her new powers and emotions and destiny, you’re going to have to deal with letting go of your little girl." 

"If you think for a fucking minute that I’m going to let you take her and make her into some fucking Watcher Council tool, then you can take it and shove it up your stuck-up ass!" 

"No," Hunter said firmly. "I believe that Rosalie will gain strength and resilience from having her family and friends close by her side." 

"From what I’ve been told that isn’t the council opinion. Thought you guys like your slayers to live hopelessly devoted to you." 

"I happen to believe that a Slayer’s personal connection to humanity makes her stronger in defending it as a whole." 

"But your boss doesn’t agree." 

"What the fuck ever," Hunter replied, causing the elder to almost crack a smile. "My opinions were well known when I was appointed to this position. So, I feel the council if not agrees, understands that this is a time to test my theory." 

"Well…" Wright seemed at a loss for words. "I’m just saying…if you fucking hurt my daughter…I can flick a knife a helluva lot faster than Cordy." 

"What the fuck ever." This time both men’s eyes flickered with humor. 

Wright released him from the wall and turned toward the kitchen entrance. 

"What?" 

The demon hunter shook his head. "I was just…before I saw Rosalie…I was looking for Wes."

"What?" Hunter squeaked. 

"Yeah," Wright sighed running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I saw that he’s finally left his room and was going to check on him. See if he wanted to…you know…talk." 

"Fuck!" Hunter snapped as he ran out of the kitchen. 

"Hey! Wait!" Wright was soon behind. "And where the fuck is your shirt?" 

*~*~* 

"Wes," Zack acknowledged as he watched the former watcher turn to examine the images playing across the wall. His own eyes trailed back to the scene of his wife and kids gathered together. Rosalie had just begun reading The Three Little Pigs. 

Zack had read that story to those two more times than he could remember. Both of them asked for it again and again because he would do voices and actions and dance around and sing. He could remember their giggles as he would prance around and declare he was going to huff and puff and blow their house down. 

Now a cold shiver ran through him. He truly was the Big Bad Wolf. He was the epitome of every childhood villain and every grownup nightmare. 

Wolfram and Hart had worked their magic. They had removed his soul and turned him into an evil that had destroyed lives and completely changed history. If it wasn’t for Willow, he would still be out there reigning in terror. 

And there was absolutely no guarantee that it wouldn’t happen again. 

He couldn’t take that chance. 

"What is this?" Wesley asked, momentarily distracted. 

"A present. From Willow. To remind me of what I’ve done." Zack chuckled humorously. "Like we could fucking forget." 

"No," Wesley said slowly as his eyes traveled back to his target. 

"We both know the truth, Wes. We both know what I’ve done. To Fred. To everyone." 

"Don’t say her name!" Wesley cried as the crossbow wildly flew up and fired. 

A low growl instinctively came from the vampire as the arrow hit his shoulder. Zack closed his eyes and calmed his inner demon. The demon wasn’t ready to die. The demon cried for blood and life. 

But the human was desperately seeking death. Not only for the comfort to his burning conscience, but because he was truly terrified of what he might do. Any moment his soul could be removed, and the monster would be back. A monster deep inside him that only a soul could control. 

"She didn’t deserve it. None of them did. We both know it’s easier this way." He was rambling. Zack couldn’t afford for Wesley to lose his courage. He was encouraged by the darkness and pain in the rogue demon hunter’s eyes. "I deserve punishment. You deserve vengeance." 

"Stop talking," Wesley growled. 

"I could do it again. Any moment my soul could switch off and I could go back to the monster. Fuck, I am the monster. That—" He gestured at the scenes of death and torture on the walls. "That’s all me. That’s what’s capable inside me. You have to end it. Spike can’t do it. But you can." 

"I said stop talking!" Wesley cried and raised the bow once again. 

*~*~* 

She didn’t need to look up when they entered the room. Her demon instantly purred in relief that she was once again in the presence of her sire. Her demon also whimpered in pain as she smelt her husband’s scent in the air. 

Taking a last glance at the children cradled in her arms, she gently removed herself from their embrace and stood up. "Keep reading," she whispered as she walked over and wrapped herself around Buffy. 

The blonde vampire embraced her childe, stroking Kelly’s hair as she buried her face in her shoulder. 

"It’s done," Spike said simply. Kelly outstretched her hand and grasped hold of the elder vampire. "You okay?" he asked her. 

She leaned over, still holding her sire and kissed Spike gently on the cheek. "Are you?" she whispered. 

Spike looked her in the eyes but didn’t answer. There was no need. 

The three remained attached for several seconds. Gathering strength from one another and taking a moment to let their defenses down. The Order of Aurelius had been dealt a deadly blow. They knew it would take all three to pull themselves back from the brink. 

The piercing shriek slammed them all back to reality. In a flash, Kelly flew over the furniture to face her children. Buffy and Spike were milliseconds behind. 

William was crying out in terror as he shook his sister. Rosie lied limp upon the sofa. The Three Little Pigs was askew upon the floor. Her eyes were rolled up in her head and she was limp and lifeless. 

Buffy instantly grabbed William and pulled him to her chest. She began rocking him and easing his cries. Spike took Rosie’s head and cradled it in his lap as he checked for any sign of injury. Kelly kneeled before her, calling out for her child to respond as she subconsciously checked her pulse and felt the signs of life. 

Visions were terrifying and fear enveloped them every time the child’s gift was invoked. But as always, slowly the girl’s eyes returned to normal and they watched nervously as her confusion slowly drifted away. "Rosie?" Kelly cried. "Rosie? What happen, baby? What did you see?" 

The horror in the girls’ eyes paralyzed the room. There wasn’t even a reaction when Hunter and Wright stormed in. Rosie looked to her mother and the glanced up to look in Spike’s eyes. "He’s going to kill him. He’s going to kill him. Please, please!" She sat up, shaking. "I know he’s sorry. He’s so sorry for what he did. Please don’t let him kill him!" 

"What?" Kelly gasped. 

"Who?" Spike snapped. 

"Wesley," Hunter announced breathlessly. "Wesley has gone to kill Zack." 

*~*~*

She didn't feel the wind. She didn't feel pain. She didn't even feel the hearty gulps of air she wolfed in and out of her chest. All she knew—all she felt—was the knowledge that if she didn't get there in time, if she arrived a second too late, everything around her would collapse. It wasn't a matter of thought or conjecture; it wasn't even about redeeming one of her many fuckups. She knew she had to make it. 

She couldn't let Wes embark on the path she had chosen. She owed him. She'd never been the slayer he wanted or needed, she'd done everything she could to fuck up his life and had come so close to taking it once she could still taste his fear. But that had been a long time ago, eons ago, and the girl who had tied him up had matured. She could do this—she could stop it. She could make it in time. She could. She knew she could. 

The route she, Hunter, and Rosalie and taken and endlessly complained about fell behind her. Faith knew her legs would ache once she stopped running, but at the moment her skin was numb. The building was in sight. She would be there in time. She would. She had to be. 

*~*~* 

He had him. He knew he did. Sweat dribbled down Wesley's face and his large eyes were strained and manic. Zack knew it was time now; death was so close he could taste it, and Christ, nothing had ever been so sweet. He was seconds away from a blissful oasis of calm. A place where the demon could not roar and the man would suffer no more. A place where he would escape this mortal coil and all its injustices and leave those behind grateful for his absence. They would be angry, he knew, but it wouldn't matter. Not in the long run. Eventually, they would realize it was all for the best. They would see that the damage he'd wrought was too extensive to heal and that the life they'd known before this cursed trip would never again be theirs. An eternity he might have to repay his sins, but even that wasn't long enough. 

Especially with the lingering fear that at any second, Wolfram and Hart could again invoke the magicks that had ripped his soul from his body. 

It wasn't as though Zack didn't understand the motive behind Spike's actions. He knew he was being a coward in seeking the easy way out. He knew he deserved whatever they threw at him, no matter how cruel. The images splashed against the walls were things he hadn't had to witness, and even if the pain of their memories was enough to crush the soul his friends had so viciously shoved into him, viewing the instant replay was only a fraction of what he owed them. 

Images flickered on the walls, and though he'd tried to ignore them, he couldn't blink away the sight of his precious daughter collapsing and crying. They knew. Kelly, Spike, and Buffy. They all knew where Wesley was, and what he was about to do. All Zack had to do was convince Wesley to pull the trigger before the vamps could intervene. 

He just prayed they relied on a vehicle. Buffy was something out of National Geographic when she ran, and Spike and Kelly weren't spring chickens, either. They'd get here in a quarter of the time if they avoided traffic…and while he knew they knew that, a part of him had to hope they'd refer to their instincts, which came with car keys and gear shifts. 

"You know how easy it was?" Zack continued, his eyes turning to the other wall—the one where his sins replayed over and over in horrific Technicolor. He was greeted with the timely sight of Fred's neck snapping, her body crumpling to his feet like an unwanted rag doll. "How it felt?" 

"Shut your filthy mouth!" Wesley roared, firing another arrow into his other shoulder. It threw Zack back, but he was on his feet again with borrowed strength. He thrived on adrenalin, now. So close to the end…so close he could taste it… 

"But it was," Zack coughed. "It was easy, Wes. Like snapping a fucking toothpick. And you know what else? I loved it." 

Wesley practically frothed at the mouth, clumsily refilling the firing gage with another arrow. 

"I wanted to send a message. I wanted you to feel it. Fred wasn't even the best I could get." 

Though twisted, that sliver of information had Wesley looking so crazed he barely seemed human. "Not the best?" he demanded, fury slamming his fingers and sending another arrow into Zack's body. This one had the makings of landing his heart, but it hit a bit too center to send him spiraling into that good night. "You fucking little worm, Fred was perfection. She was perfection." 

Eyes wide, chest heaving, Zack rolled onto his side. Pain eased what little it could, but he felt his insides tremble and his nerves screamed in agony. So close…he was so close… 

"Not," he said, spitting up blood, "to me. She was…nothing." 

"I'LL FUCKING SHOW YOU NOTHING!" 

This was it. This had to be it. Righteous anger wouldn't misguide Wesley's aim again. As another arrow slid into waiting, Zack closed his eyes and prepared himself. 

The dark would come. 

And he welcomed the end with open arms. 

*~*~* 

_Oh, no you don't, you motherfucker._

There was every chance Wesley didn't see her, and he didn't show it if he did. Faith sped down the stretch of hallway leading to Zack's prison and launched herself in the air when she was within reasonable distance. Her feet smashed into Wesley's shoulder and sent him crashing against the nearest wall, an almost rabid shade of himself. 

"No!" came the pitiful wail from inside the room. "NO!"

"You don’t get off that easy, jackass," Faith muttered, blowing loose strands of hair out of her face.

Wesley looked up dazedly, blinking rapidly until his gaze focused on her. "You!" he snarled, his eyes untamed, saliva flying. "This is mine! This is mine, you stupid bitch!"

Faith shrugged and kicked the crossbow out of arm’s reach. "And here I thought we were cool. So much for wanting my help, I take it."

"I want him gone. There’s no reason he should be here when she’s not!"

"He’s right!" Zack cried desperately. "He’s right, I shouldn’t be here!"

Faith rolled her eyes and gestured wildly to the doorway. "Well, would you look at that?" she drawled. "He wants to taste dust, Jeeves! You really wanna give him what he wants?"

"I don’t care!" Wesley gasped. "She’s dead! She’s dead and he’s not! How is that fair!"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Never said it was fair, fly-boy. In fact, and here’s a lesson your momma shoulda told you when you were in chummy ole England. Life isn’t fair! If life was fair, do you think I’d actually be walkin’ the streets instead of rotting away in some HBO-special prison cell?"

"She’s dead!"

"Yeah, and if you stop and think about it, Fred got off easy!" Her eyes blazed and her heart thundered, and she realized immediately she’d wandered into dangerous territory. "That asshole tortured the shit out of Nikki. Hell, I had to shoot her brains out just to make it stop, or do you not remember? He also left me dying in a puddle of vomit in that alley. Sliced and diced me just enough so I’d know I was dying, but not enough to end it. I didn’t get it quick. Neither did Nikki. Neither did B, come to figure. He had her chained up for days, cutting and doing God-knows what else to her before we could bust her out. Fred got off easy. He killed her quick. No pain, no gain, right? And did you ever stop to think that maybe—just maybe—that was his way of torturing you to death, Wes? That you’re playing right into his motherfucking hands by going off rafter? He wanted you to suffer. He wanted this. And you keep giving it to him!"

Wesley had no response to that; he just screamed. It was a heartbreaking scream, one of utter devastation and loss, one that would have ripped her skin from bone had it had the physical strength it carried with sound. Faith looked at him for a long minute before turning to Zack, who was no better off. Truly, at that instance, she didn’t know who hated her more.

"You have no right," Zack said slowly. "No right to stop him."

Faith arched a brow and spread her arms. "By my count, the only person here who died because of you is me. I think I have a share in the ‘do we kill Zack’ count. And sorry, boy, if I didn’t get to kill myself, neither do you."

"You have no idea what this is like!"

She snorted. "Don’t I?"

"There’s no comparison. No fucking comparison to whatever you did and to what I’ve done."

"Yeah, that ain’t gonna win you much sympathy with me, chubs. We’re not here to one-up each other. I killed, and I felt it. I never stop feeling it. And I shouldn’t. Why the hell should you get the easy way out when I didn’t?"

Zack sneered. "You just said it yourself. Life’s not fair."

"Definitely not to you."

"I killed you! Don’t you want revenge?"

Faith smiled a bit and peered inside the room. Big Red had done her stuff, all right. Not a single inch of bare wall space had been spared. Every second was worth its weight in what he had to witness. Poetic justice at work. "Looks like I got it," she said. "Getting you to beg me for death? Fucking priceless, Morris."

She sighed and turned back to Wesley, who stared at her with such vehemence, such utter loathing, she damn near shivered before remembering she wasn’t supposed to care. "Now," she drawled. "Whatever am I gonna do with you?"

"You won’t stop me," Wesley hissed. "I’ll never stop coming after him. Never."

"Pretty boring life you got ahead of you." Faith heaved a sigh and stormed over to him, smashing her foot against his head before he could utter another word. "Guess we’re back to square one, then."

*~*~*

By the time they arrived, Buffy feared it was too late. She saw a shadow of Faith walking solemnly out of the building, Wesley strewn over her shoulder. She came to a rapid halt, her legs stopping so suddenly she nearly collided with a car. Behind her, she heard Spike’s heavy footsteps sided with Kelly’s. They both stuttered to a similar stop beside her.

"What happened?" Kelly demanded before Buffy could get a word out.

"Zack?" Buffy asked.

Spike didn’t say a word. He just looked at Wesley with a mixture of pity and loathing.

"Well," Faith said conversationally, dumping the former watcher to the pavement without ceremony. "Glad you all got your invites. Guess Hunter spilled the beans?"

"Is Zack dead?" Kelly demanded again.

"Another second and he would’ve been, and I mean that oh so literally." Faith glanced dispassionately to the pile at her feet. "He lives to suffer another day. And by the way, good job on the homemade movies."

Spike’s lips twitched but he still said nothing.

"One of you might wanna high-tail it inside," Faith noted. "I left Wright’s crossbow in the hallway, and if I remember that boy and his weapons, he ain’t gonna be too happy when he finds out it went on a joyride without him."

"He’s on his way," Kelly said. "In the pickup."

A sudden crack had them all jumping. Willow had appeared next to them out of thin air.

"What the hell?" Buffy demanded.

"Hey, warn a girl when you do that!" Faith agreed. "I nearly tripped over Mr. Personality."

"Sorry," the redhead said hurriedly. "I had to Apparate; Wright and Hunter left before I could hitch a ride."

Spike’s eyes widened. "You can just instantly appear wherever you like?"

"Well, I just passed my exam before leaving England and that was one attempt out of three to do it without splinching. Give a girl a break."

Buffy’s nose wrinkled. "Splinching?"

"Every bit as pleasant as it sounds. So what’s the what?"

"How would that affect the baby?"

Kelly’s head shot up. "Baby?"

Faith beamed. "Way to go, BR!"

Everyone paused and looked at her.

"Big Red," she said. "Thought that was obvious."

Willow blew out a stream of breath. "Okay. This is so not the place for this, so here goes. Yes," she said to Kelly and Faith. "I am having a baby. Yes, I know who the father is. No, he doesn’t know yet. Thank you, the end. And," she said to Buffy, "splinching is a very icky part of the wizarding world and while it’s not something I’d encourage, the baby’s fine. I-I left a leg, a foot, and part of my elbow. Nothing abdominey."

Buffy’s nose was still wrinkled. "Yeah. You might wanna consider catching a cab the next time you need a ride."

"Thanks for the reminder." Willow’s eyes fell on Wesley, who had yet to stir. "So…"

"Zack’s still undead," raven-haired slayer confirmed. "Ya’ll have no faith in me?"

"Nice wording," Buffy remarked with a sneer.

She shrugged. "It works for me."

A pair of blinding headlights interrupted whatever rebuttal Buffy had ready, and within seconds a heavily-armed Wright and a very exhausted but business-faced Hunter rushed out of the vehicle.

Faith’s brows perked. "Still no shirt, Nancy?"

The young watcher looked down at his bare chest aghast. "Bugger. I knew I felt a chill."

"Wow," Faith drawled. "I was teasin’, but ya’ll really don’t have any faith in me. You guys really thought I can’t handle this?"

"Maybe that," Wright confirmed, "or maybe we just thought it’d be nice if you didn’t have to cart Wes back eighty blocks on your shoulder."

"Might have aroused suspicion," Hunter agreed.

"Also, Shirtless over here forgot to mention you had already put the puzzle pieces together until we were halfway here." Wright shrugged. "So I stopped breaking traffic rules and took the scenic route. Figured you’d have it under control."

Faith aimed a dubious glare at Hunter. "You didn’t tell them?"

"It slipped my mind between being cold, having Gatorade splashed on my face, being accosted by Wright, and the commotion upstairs." Hunter wiggled self-consciously. "Didn’t realize we weren’t allowed to have flaws…"

"Rife with information, this one is," Spike said, his eyes still on Wesley. "Oh, an’ Zangy, your crossbow…"

A dark shadow fell over Wright’s face. "I noticed that was gone. You’d think he’d know not to touch with my things…"

"Well…if you weren’t going to use it…"

Everything fell still. The pile on the pavement had finally stirred.

*~*~*

It happened relatively quickly. The second Wesley showed signs of life, Willow encased him in a full-body bind and levitated him to the bed of Wright’s truck. He didn’t protest the move or do much else than glare daggers at anyone who dared glance in his direction, but by the time the commotion had ended, everyone had gathered around the truck as though awaiting word on why Wesley had acted the way he had. It was a stupid move; they all knew why they were here. It just seemed a desperate ploy to save the man hidden beneath the suffering. The man they knew still lived within Wesley’s skin.

There was nothing, of course. Nothing but a bitter shell of a human being, broken and cast out, sitting rigidly still in an awkward position. A sort of still where one wasn’t concerned, but still recognized it wasn’t natural.

Then he spoke.

"Hypocrites," the man who was Wesley hissed.

Buffy’s face darkened. Wright looked mutinous, but didn’t say anything. Spike’s expression still had yet to change. Faith seemed downright bored. Kelly had yet to decide if she was angry or relieved.

Willow just watched.

"The lot of you," he continued. "It was Fred, so it doesn’t matter, is that it? Would you have gone to so much trouble, Wright, had that abomination murdered Cordelia? Or Rosalie? What if he’d gutted your wife the way Darla did. Where would your sympathy fall then? And you…" He turned to Kelly. "Had hubby dear done more than merely choke your son…had he actually killed the child or butchered your daughter, would you have rushed out here so quickly to make sure he still lived? And we all know the only thing that kept Spike from turning his friend into a pile of dust was the mere fact that Buffy is still here. So what does it take, hmm? What does it take for you to realize that she was worth that to me? Had it been any one any of you cared about, this wouldn’t be up for fucking debate!"

Wright’s anger softened and Kelly’s mood ring had settled on sadness. But Buffy didn’t back down, nor did Spike or Faith.

"You’re right," Spike said simply. "If Buffy had died, I would’ve killed him. No sodding questions asked."

"Had he killed his children, I would’ve helped Kelly torture him before giving him death," Buffy agreed. "But he didn’t."

"That’s right," Spike said. "He didn’t."

"This is a family thing."

"You’re hypocrites!" Wesley cried. "Filthy hypocrites!"

"Oh, shut up," Faith droned.

Buffy shrugged a shoulder. "So what if we are? Fred would’ve understood, Wes. She would’ve seen this for what it is."

"And had it been Cordelia?"

"Then I’m guessing we’d be here with Wright in that pickup, telling him the same thing." Buffy glanced quickly to her friend, who nodded stoically. She recognized Wesley’s ramblings had struck a nerve, but also knew he had the sense about him to realize truth from conjecture. "But Cordelia didn’t die, and Fred did."

"You don’t have the right to take him."

"The hell I—"

"From his kids, mate? Or have you forgotten them?" At last, Spike’s eyes blazed with fire and he took several hearty steps forward until coming any closer would mean climbing into the truck itself. "Think they’ve suffered enough, yeah? Li’l Rosie’s smarter than any tyke her age, but she’s still a child. There are still things she doesn’t understand, an’ right now all she knows is her dad’s alive and hurting. William might not have healed, but he still knows his father when he sees him!"

"His father who tried to strangle him!" Wesley hissed.

"Doesn’t matter. Rosie knows her pap’s sorry."

"And that makes up for everything."

"Of course it doesn’t!"

"Then I suppose—"

At last, Willow saw the need to end this. They were getting nowhere fast, and this was an issue with greater need than a curbside intervention could cure. She raised her hand and invoked a nonverbal charm, and immediately Wesley’s protest fell silent.

"Sorry," she said when everyone pieced together what had happened. "I just…this isn’t going anywhere. Wesley’s not in a place right now to hear rational arguments. He’s in too much pain, and…well…we can’t expect more from him than he has to give."

"Damn you and your logic," Wright muttered. "Why oh why did we give his cage to my bastard father?"

Wesley just screamed mutely. The enraged look had returned.

"We can work something out," Willow offered. "In the meantime, Hunter…you should take Wesley back to the hotel. That binding spell will last for about forty-eight hours, so I’ll have plenty of time to make some arrangement when I get back."

Buffy frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Inside to check on our…ummm…friend?"

Faith nodded. "He had a few arrows poking outta him."

"I should replenish his blood supply then." Willow turned to Wright. "Your crossbow’s in there, so you can come with and…ummm…keep me company?"

He arched a brow. "You’re not afraid of him?"

"No, but I don’t really want him looking at me with those ‘please stake me’ eyes when I’m feeling all hormonal and mood-shifty. Only I think that’s in my head because I don’t think I’ve been pregnant long enough to even consider this stage a trimester." She frowned thoughtfully. "Anyway, I need backup, and backup ye be. Faith and Kelly…" She turned to them. "Ride with Hunter, will you? He looks like he needs a nap and a shower, and maybe not in that order."

Hunter snorted. "Nap?" he said. "Try coma."

"Also, in case Wesley’s a handful, it’ll be good to have people on reserve." She turned to the other vampires. "And Spike? Buffy?"

Buffy raised a hand. "Take it we’re walking?"

"Don’t see why we can’t all squeeze into the back," Spike reasoned.

Willow blushed. "Guess I forgot that…yeah, I guess all of you are in the truck."

"How are we getting back?" Wright asked.

"Side-along Apparation?"

Buffy’s voice turned stern. "Will…"

"I’ll be good! I know my three D’s. Determination. Destination. And…well, there’s one other, but I know two of the three D’s. It won’t be bad."

"If you miscarry that child because of some wonky magic, I’m seriously gonna go medieval on your ass."

Willow waved a hand. "I’ll be fine. Trust me."

Wright paled. "Do I even wanna know what Apparation is?"

"Likely not if I want you to do it with me, no."

*~*~*

"Motherfucker, that jackass owes me a new crossbow."

A pitiful moan came from inside the room. "Should’ve killed me…"

Willow ignored the vampire and frowned, turning to the enchanted doorway and raising a hand. "I doubt his mind was in the right place, Zack." She glanced awkwardly between the two of them. "Ummm. Non-murderous, Zack."

"Well, obviously not." He held up the weapon for her inspection. "Just look at what he did to the trigger. That’ll be a pricey fix."

She blinked. "For the trigger?"

"Smallest parts are the hardest work, I tell you." He eyed her and the doorway curiously. "What are you doin’?"

"Perfecting what I ought to have perfected. Presto change-o, and now the only people who can even approach this doorway are of the non-Wesley variety." She beamed. "That oughta help."

Wright just blinked at her. "You’re scary sometimes."

"You don’t know the half of it." Willow gingerly stepped over the threshold and neared the wounded vampire. "Now," she said sternly, "you’re gonna want to cooperate. This will sting."

"Good," Zack said bitterly. For a wild moment, he reminded her of a pouting child.

From the doorway, Wright studied her handiwork on the walls and emitted a low whistle. "Forget the sometimes. This is wicked."

"In every sense of the word."

"He’s right, you know," Zack muttered. "What Wesley said—ahh!" He hissed as Willow pried an arrow from his shoulder. "Out there. If—if it had been one of…my kids…"

"How does he know about that?" Wright demanded.

Willow pointed to the Kelly-centric wall. "Twenty-four/seven video feed. Pretty nifty, if I don’t say so myself."

"Wicked."

"What if Wolfram and Hart decides to get creative with my soul again?" Zack demanded. "What then? Huh? This will all be one fucking joke until they come calling again. And then what?"

"First of all," Willow muttered, yanking out the arrow protruding from his chest without warning, "this is and never will be a big joke. You’re no one’s friend now. You’re no one’s husband. No one’s father. But as I said to you when we last—met." She twisted the last arrow free with a sigh. "That’s the point. You don’t deserve to rest."

"I get that!" he said mournfully. "But Wolfram—"

"Yeah, did you honestly think I didn’t think of that? I’m not a wallflower, Zack, no matter what you might have heard or perceived or whatever. That little ensouling spell? Do you really think I haven’t perfected it since I first used it over a decade ago?" She snorted and shook her head. "What’s the point of having souls if they can just be warped out at will? The spell I cast on you isn’t a temporary fix. I bound your soul to your body."

"What?" Zack demanded.

Wright blinked but didn’t say anything.

"That’s right," she said proudly. "Pretty good, eh? Now if anyone decides to mess with your conscience, they’ll, well, run into about a thousand magical firewalls. And even if they do succeed, you’ll dust in the process."

"Why…why didn’t you do that in the first place?" Zack asked. "When I first turned?"

"Well, I wasn’t thinking this would happen, obviously. I’d already removed the whole ‘one minute of happiness’ thing. This seemed an unnecessary precaution."

She glanced at Wright, who still looked mildly surprised but thankfully kept his mouth shut. With a final sigh, she conjured another bag of blood and left it sitting in the middle of the floor.

"All right, sparky," she said, rising to her feet. "You know the drill."

It wasn’t until they were well on their way to the parking lot that Wright spoke.

"So…the soul? Why didn’t you mention this—oh say—before?""

"Still as loose as a girl at a frat party," Willow said, blushing. "But binding it’s a sinch and I really should’ve thought of it sooner. I’ll fix it as soon as we get back."

"A real sinch?"

"Easy-peasy lemon squeezy. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know binding spells when I first put the soul in him. Not lasting ones, anyway. Not ones that would do what I told him that would do. The ritual itself is a binding spell, but adding the extra precautionary measures…I thought I’d done that with the whole nixing of the ‘moment of happiness’ thing." Willow expelled a deep breath. "But I do know how to do what I just said I’d done now. It just…never occurred to me."

Wright sighed heavily and wrapped an arm around her. "I guess we’ll have to forgive you," he said. "Just…make sure it never happens again."


	41. Chapter 41

The crack of Apparation had brought Cordelia out the door just as the truck pulled into the drive. Willow immediately turned to Wright, who kneeled to the ground. "Forgot to mention the way it sucks the breath from your lungs. Sorry!" 

The demon hunter looked up with fiery anger. "As long as you fix this, I don’t give a fuck if you knocked me shitless!" With that, he held up a completely shattered crossbow, broken into several jagged pieces. 

"Oops," Willow squeaked as her cheeks reddened. 

"Fix it!" 

All of the mobile passengers began hopping out of the truck and walking over. "Oh Willow," Buffy gasped. "You splinched him?" 

"No!" 

"Yes," Wright said in a pitiful moan. "She splinched my heart." He held up the crossbow for the world to see. "And I said fix it!" 

"I—I don’t even know where all the pieces are! You don’t normally splinch inanimate objects." She looked around for support, but was discouraged by everyone focused on Wright’s pained outburst. 

Hunter stepped forward. "It was a nice looking weapon, but honestly, it was only a crossbow." 

"Shut up, stupid boy!" Wright growled. "This was more than that" I built this motherfucker by hand! It holds the blood and sweat of a fuckin’ lifetime!" He looked to the others for support. He caught sight of platinum blond hair. "This bow shot Spike the night we first met." 

Spike looked reminiscent. "I can still remember the night." He pointed at his shoulder. "Right here." 

Buffy’s face fell. "That bow likely saved my life." 

"Damn right it did!" Wright said indignantly. 

"It’s saved everyone I love," Cordelia said coming over to Wright and pulling him up off the ground. 

"I never knew it," Kelly said quietly. "But you can tell it was a piece of weapon perfection. Good crossbows are impossible to find." 

"I’ve seen it enough times, Kel, to tell you it was a damn fine piece of wood," Faith said, shaking her head. 

Even Wesley had calmed down and was looking at the bow with a look of forlorn and sadness. 

Hunter looked around in exasperation before rubbing his eyes. "It was a crossbow! I really think the stress of the past few days has finally made you crack." He looked around once more. "All of you." 

"We can bury it if you like," Cordelia said softly. "Give it a proper burial. I know it’s the end of an era." 

"I love you," Wright said dropping the last piece of bow and wrapping his arms around her. 

"Do you want me to go get the girls?" 

"No, no. I don’t want them to see me like this. And I need time so I can comfort Rosalie when she finds out." 

"Its. A. Crossbow." Hunter growled. 

Wright turned to the young watcher. "You just don’t fucking get it." His eyes were filled with more disgust than anger. "And go inside and find shirt. Pay this moment the fucking respect it fucking deserves." 

"I’m going to bed." Hunter turned and headed inside. 

Wright looked around. "Somebody get me a shovel." 

*~*~* 

Willow slipped inside as the funeral began. She felt pretty guilty and knew she had a call to make before it got any later on the East Coast. Pulling out her cell phone as she walked to find a private place, she dialed. 

She wasn’t all that surprised when the number wasn’t active. She doubted that he’d had much chance to get a new phone after everything they’d been through. He was likely working on some important bill that was going to improve conditions for the country. 

Performing a quick search, she found a good alternate. Shaking she called. "Sam Seaborn’s office. This is Shelly, may I help you?" 

"Hi," Willow said shyly. "Is Sam in?" 

"No ma’am. May I leave a message?" 

She sighed. "Do you know when he’ll be back?" 

"No. Things are pretty crazy right now. I can leave a message and he can call you back when he checks in." 

"Okay." She quickly left her name and number before hanging up. Willow knew that time was of the essence and her confidence wasn’t likely to remain this high for long. She didn’t like it, but she moved on to her backup backup plan. 

"Josh Lyman," she stated when the White House switchboard answered. She fidgeted nervously as she waited for him to come on the line. At this point, a lecture from Josh was worth it if she got a chance to talk to Sam. To tell him that she was going to make him a daddy. 

"What’s up?" 

"Oh, Josh," Willow sighed in relief when he answered. 

"Is…Is everything okay?" he asked hesitantly. 

"Yeah…apocalypse has been completely adverted." 

"Good." He paused. "Then, why are you calling now?" 

She knew he would cut through the conversation like a smart-ass knife. "I was looking for Sam." 

The line was dead for several seconds. Then, a ragged sigh which she could envision had him running his hand through his wild curls. "I really don’t think that’s a good idea." 

"Well, I—" 

"Look, Sam is getting ready to run for governor. I know that if he can win the primary, he can bag this thing. It came up pretty fast, but I know he’s the man for the job." 

"Wow," Willow blinked in shock. She was having a baby with the potential governor of California. Would that make her a First Lady? Or the official Baby Momma of California? 

"Yeah," Josh agreed. "And I’m getting ready to resign so that I can run his campaign. I really believe in him." 

"I do too," she said sincerely. 

"Well, if you believe in him then believe me. You need to stay as far away from him as possible." 

"What?" Josh had just shoved a knife in her heart. 

"Look, you know I think the world of you. You scare the hell out of me with your power to end the world, but I still think the world of you. And Sam really liked you. A lot. But you guys ended things and I think that’s for the best. For Sam. You know what I mean?" 

"Not really." 

"Sam’s getting ready to run the biggest race of his life and he just can’t afford a distraction. You," he emphasized, "are a monumental distraction." He sighed. "I hate being the bad guy, but that’s usually my job." He paused. "Sam got really infatuated really fast. I know the guy enough that he wouldn’t understand the problem with taking you to fundraisers and charity balls." 

"What’s the problem?" Willow asked, tears filling her eyes. 

"You’re a witch," Josh said in a low voice. "And while I have nothing against that, I know the electorate will. If green beans could affect the Oregon vote, then your ability to cast spells is gonna be a problem." 

"Oh." She felt oddly ashamed of herself for a moment. 

"Maybe after the campaign is over you can give him a call and say congrats. By then I’m sure you guys will have both moved on. Okay?" 

"Just let him know I called," she said meekly before she hung up. As soon as the phone was off, she burst into tears. 

*~*~* 

Hunter hadn’t decided whether to attempt a shower or head straight to bed. At this point he didn’t care that he was covered in sweat and Gatorade. He didn’t even care that his hunger had turned to a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. As he made the slow and painful climb up the stairs, his mind was solely focused on his need to find a mattress. 

He couldn’t remember when he last had slept. His one attempt after leaving England had resulted in Faith jumping his bones. Now, he knew he was safe because there was absolutely no way he could get himself up enough to give the rebel Slayer a ride. She was persuasive, but he was exhausted. 

"Where’s your shirt?" 

He hadn’t heard her approach. At this point, his senses were numb enough that he likely wouldn’t have felt an earthquake. "At this point, I’m not sure." He looked at his bare chest before looking up at Rosalie. "Either downstairs or in your father’s truck." 

"What are you doing going out shirtless with my dad?" 

"Just taking care of a few issues." He caught he confused look. "Wesley went to kill Zack, but luckily Faith’s reflexes are in better shape than mine at the moment." 

"Oh geez! Did he—" 

"No," he assured her. "In fact everyone is fine. Wesley is back and now everyone is outside burying a stupid crossbow." 

"What? Not my dad’s crossbow? It’s broken?" When he didn’t respond, she threw he hands up in horror. "I take a nap and the whole fucking world goes to shit!" She took off running downstairs. 

"Goodnight," Hunter called after her. When he received no response, he turned and restarted his trip to bed. "Sodding lunatics. The whole lot of them." 

*~*~* 

Willow had cried her heart out and eaten half a box of Twinkies before she left to pantry and faced reality. She was momentarily started to find Cordelia waiting just outside. "Munchies?" she asked casually.

"Yup," Willow chirped. "Processed sugar and fat are a girl’s best friends." 

"You okay?" Cordelia asked quietly. 

"Peachy with a side a keen." The redhead made a weak attempt to smile. "What’s up?" 

"Well, between eulogies for our fallen weaponry—Wright takes it all a bit too seriously—we decided that you probably need to do a lock down on Wesley’s room." 

"Gotcha. No problemo." A pause. "Except…" 

"Here I am to show you the way," Cordy said with a smile and wave. 

"Great." The two women made it to the staircase and began their assent. Cordelia was obviously still sore from her recent delivery, but wasn’t complaining as the trucked along higher and higher. 

"You know I can give you all the details you need about the whole preggers situation. And hey—I have a fabulously large and expensive wardrobe of maternity clothes you’re welcome to. No more babies for me in the future." 

"Thanks." There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in the witch’s voice. 

"Are you sure you’re good? I mean it must be hard with the career and the magic and the lack of baby daddy and all." They had made it to the landing of the floor set aside for Wesley and Fred. Steps after leaving the stairs a strong putrid smell hit the air. "My God, Willow. What did you eat?" 

"It’s not me!" she cried. "But it is about to make me sick." 

"You and me both." 

"So this isn’t pregnancy sickness." 

"This is general sickness." 

Willow and Cordelia plugged their noses. "This is bad," the witch declared. "It smells like rotten…" She came to a complete halt. 

"Pizza? Burgers? Salads? Fred was a munchie kinda girl." 

"Fred." 

Cordelia shrugged. "I know. I miss her like crazy. Seriously, she was like my—" 

"It’s rotting flesh, Cordelia." 

"What?" 

"I mean, what did Wesley do with Fred?" 

Cordelia turned around and threw up against the wall. While the young mother was getting ill at the realization that he best friend was decomposing down the hall, Willow ran to the end of the hallway and began shouting for Wright and Spike to come help. 

The vampires won the race, but the demon hunter wasn’t far behind. Both men caught the aroma as they approached and recognized the stench immediately. "What the fuck?" Spike barked as he choked back a gag. 

"Did Zack leave us an unexpected present?" Buffy asked as she buried her face in Spike’s neck. 

"Are you okay?" Wright asked a retching Cordy. 

"Fred," she said wiping her mouth and ignoring her tears. 

"We think Wes brought he back up here after she…" Willow couldn’t finish the sentence. 

"Oh God," Kelly gasped. 

"Holy fucking hell," Wright said stumbling until his back rested against the wall. "We…he…I didn’t….how the fuck could he not…" His eyes were wide with shock, horror and full realization of the hell Wesley had been subjecting himself to the past few days. 

Kelly shook her head. "We’ve all been so selfish. Not only have we forgotten to mourn her loss, we’ve forgotten…her." Tears were running down her cheeks. "We have to—" 

"I’m going to head downstairs and begin a grave," Wright said solemnly. "Willow is there any way you can…" He gestured emphatically down the hall. 

"I can remove the…smell." For the life of her she couldn’t sugarcoat the situation. "I can make a coffin and dig a grave as soon as I’m done." 

"No!" Wright said harshly. "I mean…I brought her here from Pylia and I was to protect her from harm. The least I can fucking do is get my hands dirty to put her in the ground." He sighed. "She deserves that." 

"Okay," Willow said with a small nod. "I can still do a coffin and headstone if you like." 

Wright nodded numbly before turning to head downstairs. 

Spike and Buffy looked at one another before looking to Willow. The witch nodded. "Go down there and help him." Immediately, they went down the stairs. "I’m going to ask Cordelia and Kelly to help me make her presentable." She turned to Cordy. "Can you get something she liked? A dress or something." Then to Kelly. "And maybe some makeup or something. I’m a witch, but not a miracle worker." 

As Willow began walking toward the room and speaking incantations under her breath, the women followed her and began to prepare themselves for the woman waiting inside. 

*~*~* 

Wright was quiet for several moments after he came back outside to the garden. Wesley was still propped against the wall, silent and immobile. The demon hunter tried to control his racing mind as he determined where would be the final resting place of his beloved friend. He didn’t talk after Buffy and Spike reappeared in the doorway and he was grateful that they took his lead. His emotions weren’t in check and he needed them to be before he spoke and reacted. Finally, he walked over to a bench immersed in a patch of flowers that Fred had planted earlier in the year. Picking it up, he gingerly set it aside and walked over and grabbed his shovel. 

He felt like such an imbecile. He would have traded a thousand crossbows for Fred, and yet, he had mourned that stupid piece of wood while she was lying upstairs patiently awaiting the world’s attention. The fact he had forgotten her death, made Wes’ words sting a little more. "This is best," Wright said softly. "She always loved to come down here and read in the garden. She really enjoyed this place more than we did. Took more time to appreciate things." He cast a quick glance to his bound friend to see the tears in his eyes. "If anyone deserves to rest in a place so peaceful, it should be Fred." He took the shovel and smacked it into the ground with all his might. Then, he looked up at Wesley. "If I get you a shovel, would you hit me with it?" He read his eyes. "If I get Willow, will you help me?" The tears in Wesley’s eyes were all the answer he needed. 

"I’m on it," Buffy said, taking off back inside the house. 

*~*~* 

"Pretty sure," Faith said smashing another handful of fries in her mouth. "This is better than sex." She gestured at the burger in front of her as she grabbed her coke and took a swig. 

"Really?" Rosalie asked before taking a bite of her sandwich. 

"I said pretty sure," the elder slayer clarified. "Not a definite or anything you can hold me to." 

"Just wondering." Rosalie looked down. "Since you seem to have a lot of…burgers and fries." 

Faith picked up her burger. "Hey, Hannah Montana, I make have no qualms about being a nun, but I’m not a ho either. Just a girl that knows what she wants and gets it done my way." 

Rosalie blushed as the brunette took a huge bite. "Is that all? Thought maybe you and Hunter were—" 

Faith swallowed hard, gesturing emphatically with her hands. "No, no, no." She took a quick drink. "Is that why you thought I stuck up for him? ‘Cause he sticks it up for me?" She snickered. "Look, Nick is a decent guy and a decent lay, but I’m not his bitch. I said it ‘cause I meant it. Besides," she paused to grab another handful of fries. "We’re not lovers. We’re fuckers." 

"What’s the difference?" 

"The difference is that Nicky and I learned a long time ago that nothing amounts from love but pain and drama. Sex is all a person needs aside from food and water." She shrugged as she watched Rosalie’s confused face. "Two people have no reason to care about each other in order to have sex. All that’s required is a desire to see the other person through to a happy ending." 

"That doesn’t sound rational." 

"To me that sounds rational. And luckily, Nicky seems to have a like mind. Perfect timing to find me a fuck buddy." She gave the girl a look. "Does it bother you?" 

"No, not at all." But Rosalie couldn’t figure out why it did. 

*~*~* 

After they were finished with all of the bodily preparations, Kelly decided to copy Cordelia and go check on her children. It was well into the night and she figured it was good timing to go and put her babies to bed. 

The kids were sitting in their room finishing up their Happy Meals. Melody was munching on a chicken salad and laughing away as Rosie explained how to tickle a Maynerk demon. "Kelly," he mother-in-law beamed as she looked up. Her smile faltered as she saw the brunette’s face. "Is everything okay? Rupert went downstairs for napkins and never came back?" 

"Fine, fine," she said unconvincingly. "Just figured it was after bedtime and Nana might wanna little grownup time." 

"Well, I can tuck them in and—" 

"It’s okay, Melody," Kelly said with a weak smile. "I’ve got it." 

"Okay." The grandmother kissed Rosie and William before giving Kelly a hug and kiss. Then, saying goodnight, she left to give the mother a chance to parent. 

"Rosie, would you start getting the jammies ready while I wash up Will?" 

The little girl nodded and hopped off the bed. Kelly snatched up her boy and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. 

Everything seemed like a normal night—except that there was a funeral about to take place downstairs and their father was locked in a torture room across town. But that didn’t stop Kelly from trying to fully appreciate the moment. To savor the fact that her children were alive. 

Way too quickly her kiddies were safely planted in bed. "Do you want a quick bedtime story?" she asked as she leaned over to kiss their foreheads. 

"I want to go see him," Rosie declared. 

"Who, baby?" Kelly asked absently as she tucked the covers around William. 

"Daddy." 

Kelly froze in place. Rosie continued. "I want to go see Daddy and tell him I still love him." 

"Y-You don’t understand, honey." Kelly tried to keep from shaking as she patted the bed. 

"I saw the pictures," the little girl said calmly. "I saw the walls. Daddy hurt a lot of people. He killed Fred and he hurt Faith and Rosalie. I saw the people he left outside and I saw the woman so gross I don’t know what she looked like. I saw them over and over again." 

"Oh God." Kelly brought her hands to her mouth. 

"I saw it and I saw Daddy ask to die. He wanted to die because he thinks we don’t love him. Daddy died in my vision and I don’t want him to die now." 

"R-Rosie…" Kelly was sobbing. "You don’t….understand…" 

"Yes I do," Rosie sat up in bed. "I do understand. I saw Daddy when he was evil. Daddy isn’t evil anymore. I saw his eyes and he had Daddy eyes. He did bad things but he wasn’t himself. Now he’s back and he’s so sorry." Rosie began to cry now. "He’s so sorry and I want him to know that I love him and don’t want him to die." 

Kelly shook her head. "No." She couldn’t form coherent thoughts or anything. This was something she hadn’t prepared for. "No. No. No." Rosie was crying and she didn’t know how to comfort. All she knew is she had to flee the room. She had to get out before her emotions got the best of her. "Go to sleep." 

"Momma," Rosie cried. "Please!" 

"Go to sleep!" Kelly turned off the light and left without looking back. She had handled her fear of facing her husband, but she wasn’t sure what to do about fearing her children.

*~*~*

"It’s strange. This is definitely strange."

"It’s not that strange for them not to include you."

"No," Xander argued, swerving wildly to avoid a collision with what looked to be an armored car. He wasn’t the world’s most coordinated driver in the first place; throw in a cell phone in one hand and a yapping Anya at his side, and he figured it would be fortunate if they arrived in LA alive. At the moment, though, he was less concerned about that and more concerned about other things. Things like the fact that he hadn’t been able to reach Buffy or Willow in days. It wasn’t like them, truly, to not give him a ring back if they saw he’d left a message or twelve hundred on their voice mail.

Something was wrong, as of the way. This was what sucked about being a Scooby and a grown-up at the same time. His friends had coupled off and moved away and sticking together was something they had to try harder and harder to achieve. It didn’t help matters that there had been a period of years wherein he’d been married to an evil shrew and helped raise a bastard demon brat. But now things were right again; Anya was at his side, Willow had landed her dream job, and despite his once serious reservations, Spike and Buffy together really seemed to work.

Only now he couldn’t reach anyone, not even Giles.

That was wigsome.

"We’ll be there within two hours," Anya said reasonably, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. "Want to play a game? I’ll start. I spy with my little eye something that begins with an ‘r.’"

"Road," Xander said.

"Yes! Your turn."

*~*~*

Though Wright felt Wesley had every right to dig the grave meant for Fred, and though he’d entrusted his estranged friend with a shovel, he made sure not to take his eyes off him for more than a second at a time. He knew what Wesley was going through all too well. Better than anyone here could attest. He’d known this sort of pained grief, this outraged heartache before, and the mere memory was enough to shatter his bones.

It wasn’t the sort of wound time healed, either. It was something worse, something deeper. If anything, time had only worn his hatred darker and deeper. It had cut him off from society, shoved Rosalie into a place where she was forced to grow up just so she could learn to wield a weapon. This sort of pain ruined lives and stole years away in a blink, and while saying, ‘I know what you’re going through’ was probably the worst thing anyone could try, he felt a sense of obligation he couldn’t ignore. He did know what Wesley was going through. He was the only one who did.

If someone had tried to keep him from killing Darla in the wake of Amber’s death, he would have more than just demon blood on his hands.

Still, Wright didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. Wesley didn’t want to hear him. Wesley didn’t want to hear anything but the sound of Zack’s screams before the stake broke through skin and bone and impaled his black heart. And soon that rage wouldn’t be enough for one vampire to hold. Soon Wesley would make an enemy out of every vampire—even those he lived with or liked. Buffy, Kelly, and Spike were going to become very good targets over the next few weeks. Once Wesley’s brain worked around the fact that Zack was just one vampire, the carrier of a worldwide epidemic.

Soon his life would become a mission, and he’d start collecting trophies. Soon he’d take off and they’d never see him again, or when they did they’d wish they hadn’t.

Wright knew he could stop it. Wesley was his friend, a damn good one at that, and despite the tragedy that had rocked their lives, despite the reason the grave beneath their feet was needed, he didn’t want to see his friend make the same mistakes he had. He didn’t want to see another chunk of years wasted on a vengeance quest that would never be satisfied. Zack would dust and there would be a thousand more like him. It would never end, and Wesley would never rest again.

So he’d try now. He’d fail now, he knew, but he’d try with the hope that tomorrow he might be more successful. He’d try every day until Wesley broke down.

"Wes—"

"No."

Wright sighed, sticking the shovel into a mound of dirt before casting it aside. "I know."

"No, you don’t."

"It’s gonna kill you," he said. "I’m not warning you or threatening you…I’m just giving it to you straight. What you’re feeling right now is gonna fucking kill you if you don’t—"

"What?" Wesley hissed. "Stop?"

"This kinda rage consumes you. Believe me, I know."

"We’ve already had this conversation, Zack." He spat the name like a disease. "Fucking save it."

"I made a lot of mistakes after Amber was murdered."

"Yes, and I won’t follow your footsteps. I won’t become soft."

The accusation had Wright’s grip tightening so hard on the shovel handle he nearly snapped it off. "I’m not fucking soft, I just knew—"

"Yes, I forget. A vampire reconnected you to your humanity. A vampire led you to the woman you love. A vampire made you see what your life was missing." Wesley laughed emptily. "Baby soft, you are."

"That was different."

"It always is. But the vampire inside—the very one you call friend—is no different than the rest. He’s unchained, unwatched, and untrustworthy. He guards that lunatic across town even after…" Wesley broke away, his eyes tearing. "A man who can let another man rape and torture the woman he loves and not take his pound of flesh isn’t a man at all. And any man who knows this pain—who knows what this feels like—and turns away…he’s no one I call friend."

Wright had gone rigid.

"I’m leaving as soon as the funeral’s over," Wesley announced softly. "You’re right. Fred would have loved the garden. It was her favorite place."

"You can’t leave."

"Oh, that’s right. I’m your hostage, aren’t I?"

"You can’t be alone right now, Wes. You know that."

"No, you know that. Or rather think it. I have nothing to gain by throwing my lot in with people who defend murderers and rapists and let the blood of the innocent go unpunished." Wesley tossed his shovel to the side and stormed past Wright in a furious hurry. "I’m going to go shower."

"Wes—"

"Fred deserves to see me in my best."

He disappeared into the foyer of the hotel, leaving Wright standing in the middle of an open grave.

Alone.

*~*~*

Buffy was beginning to hate the color black. It always meant this—meant the somber gathering of people around a lonely hole in the ground. It meant death hung near, and she hated that. She hated being surrounded by death. 

"I wish I’d known her," she said to Kelly as she approached. Spike was still upstairs, likely trying to find a pair of jeans that hadn’t been torn and lacked the bloodstains that seemed to becoming more and more a fashion statement around these parts. "Fred, I mean. I knew her from before…before the whole mind-wipe thing, but not like I know Cordy or Wright. It just…she was funny and quiet, and very taken with Wes. And…Kelly?"

Kelly hadn’t looked up. She sat on the sofa in the hotel’s lobby, dressed modestly but sensibly, and staring at her folded hands.

"Kelly," Buffy said again, rushing to her friend’s side. "Honey, what’s wrong?"

There was nothing for a long minute. Then, at last, her lips parted and she spoke. "Rosie."

"Rosie? There’s something wrong with Rosie?"

"No. She…she wants to see him."

Buffy’s back straightened and she blinked in surprise. "Oh," she said slowly. "She wants to see…"

"I can’t do it. I can’t face him. Not now, and especially not with them. I just can’t."

"Well, she’ll understand—"

"No, she doesn’t. She just told me he’s daddy and he’s sorry and he wants to die, but she loves him and…God, Buffy, this is so fucking…fucked up. He’s my husband and I can’t look at him." She shuddered violently. "The time I tried I nearly vomited, and I didn’t even know vamps could do that…well, I guess I did after Spike spewed up blood."

Buffy’s nose wrinkled. "He did?"

She nodded. "When Zack had you. But that’s just…I can’t face him, and now I can’t face Rosie. My own daughter. What can I say to her so she understands?"

It was times like this Buffy was grateful she didn't have children. The world she lived in was so chaotic and violent, so random and distorted, and she didn't think she'd ever know how to explain it. Years of experience might have left her feeling jaded, but there were times she felt capable of sitting back and acknowledging the absurdity of everything around her. If she, an experienced slayer-turned-vampire still balked in the face of absolute insanity, how could she ever expect to convey their world to a child? 

Then again, Rosie was no ordinary kid. She was brilliant to a frightening level, and she understood things better than many adults did. Furthermore, she had the advantage of being brought up among monsters; everyone else, save maybe Rosalie Wright, had been forced to adapt. 

"I can't see Zack," Kelly said harshly. "I'm not ready." 

"I know." 

"He doesn't deserve whatever Rosie wants to give him." Her voice rose, almost manic, and her eyes had widened to the point where Buffy knew Kelly wasn't even sure if she meant the words she spoke. No one seemed sure anymore. Between injecting him with a soul, beating the shit out of him, kidnapping him from his refuge, and dumping him in a house of horrors, the line of 'pushing it' couldn't be too far off the beaten track. At some point, they needed to get over the vengeance phase and try for rehabilitation. 

Even if Kelly hadn't admitted it yet, Buffy knew that was where they were headed. Spike might hate Zack with every fiber of his being, but he still loved him. And no matter what Kelly had convinced herself, she wasn't ready to say goodbye to her husband—the father of her children. She wasn't ready to be alone for eternity. She could say she was and mean it, but it was something with which she couldn't grapple. 

And Buffy knew she'd miss Zack. He was a friend, even if he'd terrorized her and her family. Even if he'd butchered her friends and raped her body. She'd miss him. She'd told him as much after he'd pulled away from her broken, bleeding body. She'd apologized to him—to the real Zack—for she knew what would happen. She'd predicted this. 

She just hadn't known how much pain she'd feel once distance was laid between the non-reality of the situation and the very real reality of the world waiting outside. She hadn't known how much blood she'd need in return. She hadn't known she'd need him to suffer…but she should have. No woman could suffer the brutality of his crime and not need the closure she'd demanded. 

Still, the time for revenge was coming to a halt. They needed to rebuild. The longer they kept him in his prison, the harder it would be for everyone. For Zack to accept his sins and face them again, for Kelly to look at the man who'd threatened her children and realize the man she loved still lived within his eyes. For Spike to look at him, not as the rapist who had broken his wife's body, but as the friend he needed.

Buffy knew all this but she didn’t know how to vocalize it. And she wasn’t sure, despite her understanding of what the situation entailed, that she was ready to be the bigger person. She knew it was needed…she just didn’t have the courage to speak up.

She would have said something, she was sure. She wasn’t intending to sit there and stare at her closest friend blankly, but somehow it ended up that way until her Spikedar tingled through her skin and alerted her to her husband’s presence. Buffy jumped to her feet almost immediately, relieved for the distraction. "Hey," she said, her eyes taking a much-needed detour down his body. He wore black jeans and a long-sleeved black tee, casual but about as dressy as he’d comfortably get.

"’Lo," he replied, nodding. "What’s going on here?"

"Kelly just—"

"Rosie wants to see her dad," Kelly said before Buffy could diffuse the situation.

Spike’s eyes darkened. "How do you know?"

"She told me."

He snorted, his neck straining. "Bloody brilliant. Now we got the kiddies weighing in."

"I don’t know what to do," Kelly said miserably. "Someone please tell me what to do."

Buffy seized Spike’s hand and squeezed. Now, she thought, would be a really good time for a real distraction.

The front doors of the Hyperion swung open at that precise second and Gunn staggered through, the bloodied and puss-oozing carcass of a hympkin demon strewn across his shoulder. He took one glance of the foyer, said, "’Sup?" before dumping the body on the ground.

Kelly jumped to her feet almost immediately. "What the hell?"

From the staircase came the call, "The fuck you been?" as Faith and Rosalie thundered into the lobby, a very sleep-deprived Hunter at their heels.

"What do you mean, the ‘fuck I’ve been?’" Gunn demanded, kicking his demon prize in the gut. "Am I the only one around here who can hear the goddamn phone?"

Hunter’s sleepy eyes fell upon the dead trophy. "Is that a hympkin?"

"Fuckin’ A yeah, it is. Terrorizin’ this family in the burbs. Racked up a pretty penny, and I think I mighta accidentally infected their son with a case of mystic measles, but they paid two grand to get this thing exorcised." He dug into his dirty pockets and produced a wrinkled check.

"You went on a job?" Rosalie demanded.

"’Course I did. You like having running water, don’t you?"

Faith studied the demon with a grimace. "Why’d you cart its dead ass back here?"

"Hympkins are bloody hard to kill," Spike volunteered. "An’ they’re blood is…well, let’s just say…"

"Ca-ching," Gunn said.

"Sums it up nicely, yeah."

"It heals most afflictions almost instantly," Hunter said. "Makes them a very hunted creature, though I don’t think one’s been caught in fifty years. They don’t tend to just wander into suburbs, though. Odd behavior for a hympkin."

"Well, let’s just find a place to put the…pumpkin," Buffy said, gesturing at the monster. "We really don’t want to have this thing smelling up the lobby…now."

Gunn frowned. "What’s goin’ on?"

"We’re having a funeral in a few minutes," Kelly said. "For Fred."

He immediately sobered. "Oh," he said. "Yeah."

Faith sighed and nodded at him. "Okay," she said. "You and me, Chuck. Wanna haul its smelly ass downstairs?"

"Right next to Wright’s daddy dearest." He nodded. "Seems fair."

"Yeah." She turned to Rosalie. "You’re up, too, blondie."

"Eww. Why?"

"Slayerage," Buffy said with a shrug. "You get to deal with the nasty demons."

"Then why aren’t you helping?" the girl demanded.

"Didn’t get the memo? I’m retired. Comes with being dead."

Faith shrugged. "Wow! Didn’t know that perk. I guess I’m off the hook, too."

"Guys!"

Buffy grinned and shook her head. "You want the membership, gotta get the upgrade. Only…don’t. I don’t want you axing yourself, ‘cause then Wright will have my head."

"You want to hurry it up, too," Faith said, indicating the courtyard. "I think the funeral’s about to begin."


	42. Chapter 42

She looked asleep, and nothing else. Her skin wasn’t pulled awkwardly and she didn’t shine with the hint of embalming fluid. She looked like she might immediately open her eyes and flash a smile, and though Buffy assumed that was the point of Willow’s glamour, it almost made things worse.

No one seemed to know what to say. They stood gathered around Fred’s beautiful casket, watching her perfectly pale skin twinkle as the stars began to recede and dawn chirped in the early morning. No one knew what to say, or how to proceed.

The children were asleep upstairs. Melody was watching over baby Kelly. Wright and Cordelia stood near the head of the casket, Cordy’s face a mess of tears, Wright’s expression hard and sober. Next to them was Rosalie, curled into Faith’s side and crying hard. Hunter stood next to them, hands at his sides and his face a mixture of supreme discomfort and sadness. He hadn’t known the girl, of course, so he likely didn’t feel comfortable mourning her…but Rosalie’s sobs were visibly getting to him.

Like Buffy, he likely recognized that the young slayer wept not just for Fred. This was the first time any of them had truly paused to mourn. Nikki hadn’t been granted a funeral. Her body had been too mangled to restore, and bringing her to this place would have only revived the memory of what had transpired. Fred’s pristine body was enough to do that without the mangled horror of the last few weeks. She was beautiful but broken, a vessel of life that no longer functioned. She was a metaphor without trying. Fred encompassed what their lives had become. This once living thing, now cold and dead, and seconds from being lowered into the ground.

Gunn stood at the foot of the casket, his eyes puffy and swollen. Giles had Kelly in his arms, her body shaking so hard she about crumbled in pieces. Like Rosalie, she wept not just for Fred. She had too many causes now, and she was only partway through her battle.

Willow stood next to Buffy, who was reeled into Spike. And between them was Wesley. He had not said a word.

Giles cleared his throat at long last. "Would anyone like to say anything?"

"Oh, Fred," Cordelia cried, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Rosalie just sobbed harder and clung to Faith, the proverbial big sister she’d always wanted. Faith stroked the young girl’s hair but didn’t break. Every few seconds, her eyes wandered to Wesley.

Wright’s chin trembled. "Goodbye," he said softly.

And then a heart-rendering gasp tore through the air, and at long last Wesley sank to his knees. It was as though the pain he’d kept inside had clawed its way to freedom, scratching at his lips and tearing at his eyes until there was nothing left to do but sob.

"This isn’t real," he sputtered. "Oh God, this isn’t real."

"Wes," Wright said, breaking away from Cordelia immediately. It didn’t matter, then. Cordy had gone to the former watcher, too.

"This isn’t real. I’m going to wake up now. These last few days…"

Giles went to him, too, but Cordelia had gotten there first. She stroked his back and buried her face in his hair, and when he wrapped his arms around her, she murmured encouragingly and cried with him.

"She can’t be gone!" Wesley screamed, but it was muffled. "God, please…"

"It’s all right," Wright said uselessly. He looked thoroughly divided, because he plainly knew it wasn’t all right. Nothing was all right at the moment, and it wouldn’t be for a long time.

"My wife, my wife. She was going to be…oh God, someone kill me. I can’t live like this, I can’t…"

Faith abandoned Rosalie at long last, turning her into Hunter’s surprised and clumsy arms. Wesley’s outburst had only hardened her tears. Her body shook and her face was buried under a waterfall that wouldn’t end. Faith fell to Wesley’s side beside Cordelia, and she looked as surprised as Buffy felt when his arm reached to hug her, as well.

"He hasn’t cried for her yet," Willow said softly, her voice choked. "I remember that. Tara…"

Buffy turned to her in surprise. "Tara?"

"It might not have been real, but it felt real. It still does." She swallowed hard and shook her head. "I didn’t feel it at first. It was just…rage. Pure rage. And then this."

"Yeah," Spike said, squeezing Buffy closer to him. "I remember, too."

Giles nodded, his eyes filled with tears. "Jenny," he whispered, and Buffy’s heart broke all over again.

So much loss shared, so many people gone who should still stand here. She felt silly for thinking of it only now, but Giles—above Wright, above Willow, above everyone—knew alone how Wesley felt. A vampire who had been a friend and an ally had lost his soul, and ripped away the woman he loved. A vampire had been given a soul again, and he’d been forced to admit him back into his life as a friend.

And he was right. Buffy remembered running after Giles in a panic that his rage would end up getting him killed, as well. She’d saved his life, only to incur the blunt of his wrath before he collapsed sobbing into her arms. She hadn’t let him have his vengeance, either. Angelus hadn’t paid for Jenny’s death in anything but the remorse that inevitably followed.

"The pain will never leave him," the elder watcher said softly, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. "Time doesn’t make it better. Time only gives you the tools with which to cope."

Buffy had never so richly regretted denying Giles his vengeance until that moment. Yet if he had killed Angel when he wanted it, who knows how that might have changed things. People might be alive today, but altering history didn’t just eradicate the bad and replace it with good. She might be standing somewhere else entirely. Perhaps she would have truly died in Glory’s battle rather than at Angelus’s fangs. She didn’t know.

Spike kissed her brow and she at last felt herself begin to cry. Wesley rocked in Cordelia’s arms, holding onto Faith as well. Hunter bewilderedly tried to comfort his grieving slayer. Willow now held Kelly, Giles’s arm around her shoulder.

Fred sat still as though asleep, but she was gone, a glittering engagement band on her finger.

*~*~*

The hotel had quieted as the first streams of sunshine began to creep over the horizon. Faith had ushered a broken Wesley back to his room and hadn’t emerged. Hunter had finally collapsed in bed, not to be bothered again for hours. Rosalie, still sobbing, had been carried to bed by her father, who sat with her until she fell asleep. Kelly forced herself to forget Rosie’s bedside promise and, despite doubting it would come, fell into a steady slumber as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Willow finished off the Twinkies in the kitchen and studied her phone until around the seven o’clock hour before finally nodding off on one of the downstairs sofas. The other dispersed as needed. They wouldn’t stir for a while.

In their room, Buffy approached Spike as he stripped his funeral attire.

"I have a question," she said.

"Not tired?"

"Not at all. I just can’t…"

"What’s your question, love?"

She swallowed hard. "Is it…because of what he did?"

Spike froze and turned to face her. "What?"

"Zack. Is that why you haven’t wanted me?"

"No!" Spike gasped, his eyes wide. "I just thought…you…after what you went through…"

She shook her head, tears clouding her vision. Maybe she was tired, after all. "I just want you," she said. "Please. I need you."

"Oh, Buffy…"

The space between them closed in half a blink, and the next thing she knew, the mattress was at her back and Spike was on top of her, his lips mauling hers as his hands tore at her blouse.

She needed this now. She needed him.

She needed him like she had never needed him before.

*~*~*

"Hell-o?"

Xander frowned, waited, and when no one answered cupped his hands around his mouth and ventured another try. "Anybody here?"

The hotel seemed deserted, quiet. Nothing stirred.

"I think they ran away," Anya said, stifling a yawn. "Or they might be on vampire time."

"This is just giving me the wiggins."

"Want to see if there’s an extra room?"

"Ahn!"

"I’m tired, Xander! We’ve been driving for eighteen hours! Can’t we just rest for the appropriate amount of time, copulate, and then worry about—"

"Rosie."

She frowned. "Rosie? Why are we worrying about Rosie?"

Xander pointed. The girl stood on the top step, her eyes clear and wide awake.

"What’s up, chuck?" he said slowly. "Rosie?"

"My daddy."

"Zack?"

She nodded. "I need to find him. Can you take me?"

"Now?" Anya complained. "I need some beauty rest."

Xander frowned and stepped forward. "Your mom here, kiddo?"

The child paused, then slowly shook her head. "No," she lied effortlessly. "I need to find daddy. He needs me."

Xander didn’t even pause. "All right."

"All right?" Anya demanded.

"Yeah. If Zack’s in trouble, I wanna be there to help." He offered his hand to the girl, who immediately sprinted downstairs. "Lead the way, kiddo."

They left quickly, Anya complaining loudly as they went.

No one noticed Willow sleeping on the sofa.

*~*~*

Cordelia heard the soft whimper from the bassinet beside her. Opening her eyes, she faced the sleeping face of her husband and smiled. If a demon sighed down the hall, the man would be up and ready to fight. A baby whimpering beside him left him blissfully unconscious. 

Rolling over, she sat up and snatched up her little Kelly. She knew the world had turned upside down. She’d lost so much and seen so much pain over just the past few days. But she looked at the shiny little eyes of this gift from the Powers and she knew it would all get better. She knew that her Kelly was going to live in a world of joy and love and happiness. And that was all she needed. 

Scooting up to rest her back against the headboard, she unbuttoned her gown and began to feed her girl. Her gaze was alternated between her baby and her man. She never told him, but she loved to wake up in the night and watch him sleep. It was only when he slept that she could see all of the anger and fear fall from his face. His peaceful expression made him almost look innocent. 

Almost. 

She smiled and looked back at their daughter. She was hoping for her own beautiful hair on the child, followed by the rakish smile that her father and big sister possessed. She prayed that she just wouldn’t have any Visions. 

"Please have no special powers. Not much to ask, but I just want you to be a perfectly average child." 

"Wha?" Wright’s eyes fluttered open. 

"Nothing." Cordelia whispered. "Just giving our baby a pep talk on being a boring and completely predictable child." 

"Oh." He gave a lazy smile to her before moving his gaze downward to the nursing baby. "Hey, I haven’t really got a chance to check this whole process out." 

"Yeah, and lustfully staring at the nipples giving your newborn nourishment is not sexy in the slightest." 

"So says you." 

"And you can’t touch this for the next six weeks. After that it’s on an invitational basis, buddy." 

"Whatever." He gave her one last grin and shut his eyes. 

After she finished with Kelly, she realized that the child wasn’t going to fall back asleep. Deciding she needed to get up, she grabbed up her baby and headed to the hall. She could tell through the light at the end of the hall, dawn was on the horizon. She couldn’t believe how quiet the house and couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

Since she knew where one daughter was, she decided to slip upstairs and check on the other. Cordelia was momentarily horrified when she saw Rosalie’s bed empty. She saw the open door across the hall and her heart stopped. 

The young woman was fast asleep in the room which belonged to Nikki. She was tightly holding a teddy bear, which Cordelia could remember Fred had given her several years ago. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes as she tiptoed into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Leaning over to kiss the girl, Cordelia tried desperately to hold back a quiet sob. 

"Wha?" Rosalie asked as her eyes sprang open. She immediately tried to sit up and hide the guilty look across her face. "I uhh…I was tired and—" 

"Shh," Cordelia said through her tears. "It’s okay." 

"It’s just…we buried Fred, but…" 

"I know," Cordelia cried. "We didn’t get a chance to bury Nikki." 

Rosalie gave a sheepish shrug. "I mean, I know you didn’t like her so it’s okay." 

The young mother gasped. "Rosalie! Just because we never got along doesn’t mean I would have ever wished this!" 

"I know," Rosalie said quickly. "I just mean…you two hated each other and you don’t have to pretend to grieve. I’m cool." 

"No, she was your aunt and your friend." 

Rosalie nodded. "She was like my big sister. When I was little…I kinda felt like she was a mother to me." 

"I know," Cordelia said, pulling the girl into her free arm. 

"Until I met you." 

*~*~* 

Kelly jumped up and looked at the clock. She was startled that she had slept nearly seven hours. She wasn’t entirely convinced that wasn’t more time than she had slept the previous two weeks combined. Exhaustion had finally taken her down. 

She yawned as she stepped out of bed. The quietness throughout the house informed her that she wasn’t the only one. The recent events had taken a toll of all of them. She just needed to find a way to get back to reality. 

She hadn’t figured out the situation with Rosie. The child was going to insist that she see her father, but she just wasn’t ready. Hopefully, a long talk with Giles and then her daughter, would solve the situation for the time being. 

Kelly took a long shower and then went to her suitcase to find an outfit for the day. She tried her best to ignore all of the clothes she had packed for her husband. All the clothes he hadn’t had a chance to wear. 

Though her stomach was crying out for nourishment, she couldn’t go downstairs without checking on her children. William had a tendency to wake up early, and she knew there was a fifty percent chance she would have to make him breakfast while she warmed up her blood. 

She was surprised when she saw William sound asleep alone in the bed. She wasn’t too concerned until she walked downstairs. There was no real trace her scent in the air. She walked outside and all around the building before making one last trip to search the kitchen and foyer. Racing upstairs, she began opening random doors. She couldn’t feel her presence anywhere in the house. 

It took five minutes of needless searching before she accepted it. She knew she was gone. She just didn’t know when she left. And the scariest part was where she was headed. 

Knowing nothing else to do, she let out a blood curdling scream for help. 

*~*~*

Xander gave Anya another quick glance. "Are you sure you know where he is?" 

"I saw it in a vision. I saw Daddy in trouble and I’m the only one who can save him." 

"Yeah," he said skeptically. "I got that but why have we been driving around for two hours, babe?" 

"There!" Rosie shrieked as she clapped her hands together in excitement. She remembered enough of the exterior from when she watched Wesley enter the room. "Number 37!" 

"All right!" Xander cheered as he screeched the car to a halt. "Do we need weapons?" he asked as he opened the car door and headed for the trunk. 

"No," the young girl said quietly. "He just needs me." 

It didn’t take long to climb the stairs and head to the room at the far corner. Xander was ready to kick the door in, but Rosie simply reached up and opened the door. 

Zack looked up from the corner, eyes wide and terrified. He blinked in confusion before sputtering. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Daddy!" Rosie said immediately running over to the man. He didn’t return her embrace, but that didn’t stop the child from giving it every ounce of her devotion. 

"Uhhh…" Anya said slowly as she spun around the room, taking in all the images. 

"Yeah…" Xander returned in kind. 

"I’m pretty sure we just fucked up big time," Anya said as she looked at the flashes of Zack snapping the neck of a woman before images of Buffy chained up and naked beamed across the wall. "And pretty sure they’re gonna kill you first. They would expect more from you than me." 

"Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything!!!" Xander squealed.

*~*~*

This was how it should always be. 

Every inch of her hummed. Her skin tingled. Her legs felt sore, but she didn't care. She also didn't care that she'd be walking bow-legged for the next few days. None of it mattered—nothing mattered except the arms around her and the chest under her head. The closeness she'd feared she'd lost forever burned her heart with the strength of a million suns. For the first time since Spike broke her from captivity, Buffy felt well and truly complete. 

"Mmm," Buffy murmured. "That was…" 

"Earth-shattering?" Spike ventured, stroking her arm absently. "Mind-blowing? Bloody fucking good?" 

"Relaxing." 

"Not my choice adjective, but I guess I'll take it." 

"I've missed this." 

"Christ, I have, too." He brushed his lips across her brow with tender veneration, and the caress rippled across her skin. "Didn't think you'd want this for a long time. Not after…" 

Buffy felt him tense beneath her and looked up. "Spike—" 

"Every time I think about it I wanna rip out his heart just so he can see it before he dusts." 

"Then stop thinking about it." Buffy licked her lips and lay her head back against his chest. She wasn't sure which one of them would be the first to mention the elephant in the room, but now that the subject had been breached, she felt obligated to see it through. The longer they avoided the issue, the harder it would be to confront, and letting Zack rot away in his prison across town didn't do anyone any favors. Kelly wasn't healing, Spike wasn't moving on, and the children didn't understand. 

This couldn't go on forever. 

"Spike…" 

"Bugger." 

She raised her head again. "What?" 

"I know what you're going to say an' I don’t like it." 

"We can't keep this up." 

"Why not? It's not like we don't have forever." 

"What about his kids? What about his brother? What about—" 

"The wife who can't handle it? The woman he raped? The girl he butchered? The body we just buried? What about me, Buffy?" Spike shook his head and huffed. "I can’t look at the prick, much less—"

"And that’s not going to change anytime soon. Do you honestly think it’s getting better?"

Spike’s chin jutted out. "I’m sleeping just fine."

"Spike, he’s your friend."

"Bugger. That."

Buffy gestured emphatically. "Then what the hell are we doing here? Why didn’t we just kill him? Why did we rush outta here like Beatles tickets were suddenly on sale to go stop Wesley from seeking his vengeance? We can’t just keep punishing him, Spike, and you know it. We’re just letting him sit there all guilt-faced surrounded by images of what he did and who he hurt. We wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t our intention to eventually—"

"No."

"No. Just no?"

"I can’t forgive him."

She sobered slightly at that. "No one’s asking you to forgive him. But we have to try to heal. If we don’t, then it’s just going to get worse. Zack’s rotting away and we’re just letting him. If we don’t want him back then we kill him…but I don’t want that, and I don’t care what you say, but I know you don’t want that, either."

Spike fell silent. His eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.

Buffy licked her lips and ran her hand over his chest. "It’s not going to get any easier by putting it off. What he did was horrible, and it shouldn’t be forgiven…not easily. But try as you might, I know you know the difference between souled and soulless."

"If you bring up Angel—"

"No, dummy, I’m talking about you."

He blinked and looked at her. "Me?"

"Yes. I know it wasn’t…real…those memories, but we still have them, don’t we? You turned into William, and though you were similar, you are the exception that proves the rule." Buffy pointed in the direction of Zack’s prison, as though she could see it from their bedroom. "Your friend would never have done what he did. The monster that terrorized us is gone…and we’re never going to get to punish him. Punishing Zack just because he looks like the monster doesn’t make it better. We can’t make soulless Zack sorry. He’s gone, and our Zack is suffering the consequences. He didn’t do any of the things we’re making him see, but he—"

"Stop."

"—doesn’t know that. He’s heard it, sure, when we were talking about Angel, but he doesn’t—"

"Stop."

"—know it. He—"

"Buffy?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Stop?"

"That’d be nice."

"Spike, I’m not telling you this to make you choose. I’m telling you this because I have chosen, and I love you like crazy so you have a right to know." Buffy expelled a deep breath and shuddered. "I’m going to see him."

Spike’s eyes went wide. "You—"

"It’s time."

"I don’t—"

"And I’m bringing Willow with me. The images worked. We got our pound of flesh, but it’s too much, and it needs to go." She licked her lips. "He needs to come home."

"Buffy…God, I don’t know what…I don’t know if I can…"

"And we won’t until he comes back. No one’s going to be ready if we keep putting it off." She reached for his cheek and gently stroked his skin. "I love you, and that’s why I’m telling you…but we need to group together and start to rebuild. Zack isn’t the enemy anymore. Wolfram and Hart’s what did this to us…and the jackass we have chained up downstairs. I won’t bring him back without telling others…or without your help, but I am going to make the first move."

Things fell silent between them. For a long minute, she thought he would start screaming at her. But he didn’t. Instead, he inhaled deeply, looked into her eyes, and kissed her.

"There are times," he murmured, "I really wish I could see things like this your way."

She grinned and kissed him again. "You typically do."

*~*~*

He couldn't look at them. God, he couldn't look. He barely registered the trembling, bubbly body warming his chest. The images flickering against the wall had numbed him to such a point he barely remembered a room, a life, without seeing his sins flash before his eyes every few seconds. He knew it existed, but he couldn't see it. Every time he willed it away, the images became more potent, more terrible, and all the more true. 

He'd known Rosie was coming to him, of course. The walls didn't lie. He'd witnessed her broach the subject with Kelly, as well as Kelly's horrified response. He'd sat impotently as his daughter crawled out of bed, watching her tiny form as she crept through the all too familiar halls of the Hyperion Hotel. He'd looked through her eyes as she peered over the foyer and spied Xander and Anya, and he'd even felt her ripple of excitement when she realized she could manipulate them into getting where she wanted to be. 

He'd known they were coming but he couldn't have prepared himself for the reality of seeing them again. The reality of holding his daughter. The reality of their disgusted horror as they took in the colorful illustration of his many sins. 

It took a few seconds, perhaps a minute or two, for the disgust on Xander's face to melt into rage. Zack knew the pattern all too well now. He could practically time it out, could recite the words before they breathed air. He knew every emotion, every reaction, every everything, and still it burned. 

"You fucking sonofabitch!" Xander spat, storming forward. He had the foresight to tear Rosie away from her father's lap before the back of his fist came down upon Zack's weak, willing body. "What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" 

"Xander!" Anya admonished, tumbling after him. 

"Don't hurt him!" Rosie screamed. "Don't hurt my daddy!" 

Xander ignored both cries, and Zack couldn't blame him. Instead, his fist came down again, stronger this time, born with force only pure fury could manifest. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?" he demanded savagely. "You fucking bastard! You—" 

"Xander!" Anya snapped again, seizing his arm before he could bring it down for another blow. "Stop it!" 

Rosie ran up and kicked him hard in the shins. "Don't you hurt my daddy!" she shrieked. 

"Ow!" 

"That's what you get for hitting," Rosie said. 

"You see what he did?" Xander shouted. "DO YOU SEE?" 

"Yes," Anya responded reasonably. "My eyes are attached to my head and are in working order. But Xander, look at him." 

Xander's head swung back in Zack's direction. "And what am I supposed to see?" he retorted. "He...he killed...and Buffy..." 

"Obviously," Anya said, "his soul was removed from his body. Zack wouldn't do these things." 

Xander rolled his eyes. "Obviously." 

"It's true," Rosie insisted. "Wolfram and Hart. They made daddy bad. They made him do bad things. But he's not bad now. He's sorry and he's daddy again." 

Whether it was the child's words or the force of realization, Zack didn't know. He and Xander weren't buddies by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew the guy enough to peg his reactions. Xander tended to act first and think later, and anything demon-related, despite his growth and acceptance over the years, never failed to jump to conclusions. It just so happened the conclusions he'd reached with this particular leap rang true. 

"Your soul," Xander choked, his shoulders sagging. "They took your soul." 

Zack blinked back tears and nodded. "Yeah. That's what happened." 

"And...this?" He waved at the walls. "This is..." 

"Punishment. My punishment." 

Anya crossed her arms. "Wow. I'm impressed. This is some really nice work, insofar as vengeance goes." 

Zack and Xander shot her a virtually identical look. 

"I can't help but admire the ingenuity, is all." 

"Yeah, it's the first thing I noticed, too," Zack said grimly. 

"So, you're...what?" Xander asked. "In time-out? They sent you to your own corner to think about what you've done?" 

Zack really hadn't thought about it that way, but there was simplicity in that explanation he couldn't help but appreciate. "I guess so." 

"Doesn't sound so ingenious when you put it that way," Anya remarked. 

"And when Rosie said you needed her..." 

"He does," Rosie said, padding forward. She aimed another glare in Xander's direction but didn't kick him again. "He needs to know I love him still. Mommy does, too. And so does William and Uncle Spike. All of us. We still love him." 

Then, with tenderness only a child could provide, she wrapped her small arms around her father's neck and rested her head against his shoulder. 

And that was all Zack could take. His arms limp at his sides, his daughter's small heart beating against his chest, and the wealth of burdened emotion pressing against his skin. He burst into tears. 

And once he started, he couldn't stop. 

*~*~* 

The walls shook with the power of Kelly's shriek. 

"Bugger all," Spike hissed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. 

"What now?" Buffy agreed, reaching for her jeans. Her body whined under movement, but she ignored it. The chance to sleep had come and gone, it seemed. It was too much to hope things would quiet down. 

They'd learned to dress quickly. If not for the sake of trouble that seemed to follow them wherever they went, then certainly in the wake of all that had occurred. In a flash, Buffy and Spike tumbled into the hallway, fully clothed and as awake as they could manage. 

"Kelly?" Buffy gasped. 

The younger vampire screamed again the second she sensed her sire's presence, whirling around, her eyes bloodshot and strained. "She's gone. She went to see him. She left and went to see him!" 

"Someone turn down the volume," Rosalie said as her door swung open. It didn't look like she'd garnered much sleep, either.

The door to Wesley's room flew open at the same time. "What's going on?" Faith demanded. 

Buffy took a step forward, her hands coming up. An unstable vampire was a force with which to be reckoned, and while she knew Kelly wouldn't consciously do anything to endanger anyone, she likewise understood that when it came to mothers and their children, no line was considered too far. "Rosie?" she ventured. "Rosie's gone?" 

Kelly nodded. "Yes. She's gone. She went to him, I know he did. I need her back, Buffy! Make her come back!" 

Wright's door flew open. "Has everyone forgotten that it's seven in the goddamned morning?" he snapped grumpily. 

"Rosie's gone," Spike told him. 

"What?" 

"She went to him," Kelly repeated, hugging herself as tears scalded down her cheeks. "She went to Zack. She went to see him. I told her I didn't want her to see him, and she went." 

"By herself?" Wright demanded. He didn't wait for a response, instead throwing his arms in the air and turning back to snap at Cordelia, who presumably stood behind him. "Fuck it all, where's my shirt?" 

Rosalie cracked a weak grin. She had ostensibly not recovered from the funeral, but was making every effort. "Maybe Hunter took it." 

"She wouldn't have gone by herself," Buffy reasoned. "I mean, Rosie's a smart kid. She doesn't just wander off alone." She frowned. "Except sometimes she does, but she wouldn't do it like this." 

"She wants him to come home," Kelly murmured. "Oh God, Buffy, I can't go. I can't look at him. I can't be near him. I can't—" 

"You won't have to." Buffy's eyes drifted past her grieving childe, landing on the redhead emerging from the lobby. "Willow?" 

The witch held up a hand. "Don't worry. I'm up to speed. The acoustics in this place are amazing." 

"We're going. Just us." 

"Just you and Will?" Wright's brow furrowed. "But…" 

"This is a child," Buffy replied, "not a revenge-crazed ex-watcher with a nasty trigger hand. We don't need the full cavalry." She exchanged a long, meaningful glance with Spike, and in that instant, they understood each other. He knew why she was going alone, and what she would do when she arrived. 

The idea of Zack at all had Kelly immobilized, unable to go after her own child. 

Like it or not, the time for vengeance was over. The time to heal was now. 

*~*~*

Buffy made Willow swear not to Apparate. After what had become of Wright’s beloved crossbow, it seemed wise to at least momentarily place a moratorium on Apparation. The last thing anyone needed was a serious magic-related injury that occurred in the midst of trying to do something help.

"Are we sure she’s going to be here?" Willow whispered loudly as they stormed into the building. "I mean, what are the odds that she found her way here without help?"

Buffy just shook her head, rounding the hallway corners until a familiar voice tickled the air. "Not very," she said dryly. "What the hell…"

"Xander?" Willow broke into a run, skidding to a comical stop in front of the doorway. "Xander Harris!"

"Willow!"

"Hi Willow," said Anya. "We were just talking about you."

Buffy turned the corner with a small sigh, her eyes falling immediately to the sight of Zack sobbing in Rosie’s hair, his arms pliant at his sides and the girl refusing to let go. No one else would have brought her here. No one else would have been foolish enough to go against Kelly’s wishes. Xander and Anya hadn’t known—no one had bothered to call them with an update in days.

If Rosie had headed them off, they would have brought her here without being any the wiser.

"Hi, Rosie," Buffy said soberly. "Ready to go home?"

Zack and Rosie glanced up at once, and it was impossible to tell which was more stricken.

"She didn’t mean anything," Zack blubbered. "She just wanted to see me."

"I don’t wanna go home," Rosie insisted. "I wanna stay with Daddy. He needs me."

Willow’s face fell. "Oh, sweetie…"

Xander’s hands came up. "We didn’t know anything," he said. "I swear. We got there this morning and she said he needed her."

"I’m sure he did, in some way," Buffy agreed. "But leaving without your mom’s permission wasn’t the way to get what you want, Rosie. We’re going home now."

"Mom didn’t want me to see him," Rosie said. "She would never have let me come."

"Mom’s still in charge, whether or not you agree with her." Buffy eyed Xander warily. "Now, go with Xander and Anya. They’re going to take you home, all right? Willow and I need a minute with your daddy."

"We do?" Willow asked sharply.

"You do?" Xander echoed.

"We do," Buffy verified.

Rosie sniffed miserably and stepped away from her father with such potent reluctance no one remained unaffected. "I’m in trouble, aren’t I?"

"Probably, but you knew that going in." Buffy nodded to Xander, who took the cue and seized Rosie almost immediately, pulling her into his arms. "We’ll be right behind you."

Xander turned awkwardly and maneuvered past Buffy and Willow, tailed by Anya, who waved and said, "Nice seeing you again," to Zack before disappearing into the hall.

Buffy sighed then, tension rolling off her shoulders.

"Will," she said. "The walls."

"Yeah?"

"Wipe them. He’s seen enough."

The look on Zack’s face was likely one that would remain with her forever. Confusion stole the reins from apathy and self-defeat, and while he wouldn’t fight whatever came, the hint of mercy had very ostensibly not even floated across the list of possibilities to come.

"Really?" Willow asked. "Okay…sure. One normal apartment coming up."

It took a wave of her hand and the images plaguing the plaster faded into nothing. No more Fred dying. No more William choking. No more Rosalie bleeding. No more Faith in the alley. No more Buffy hanging. No more live-feed on Kelly, Rosie, and William. It all became white, leaving the room cold and haunted, as though it would never forget the sins it had displayed.

"Thanks," Buffy said softly. "Give us the room."

Again, Willow looked at her askance, but didn’t protest. In easy seconds, they were alone.

"What’s happening now?" Zack asked, his eyes heavy.

"It’s over."

"What’s over?"

"This part. We can’t do this anymore. It’s killing Kelly, it’s damaging Rosie, and we’re not going to get anywhere if we don’t try." Buffy expelled a deep breath. "We’ve been punishing you and punishing you, and to an extent that’s deserved, but we can’t say one thing and react another way."

He blinked. "What does that mean?"

"It wasn’t you."

He didn’t play dumb, though she could see he wanted to. "No. No. It was me. It was. I remember. I saw…I felt—"

"You remember, saw, and felt what he did. The other Zack. The Zack that’s not you. It’s different this time." Buffy licked her lips. "We’re all different. When Angelus happened, none of us were prepared, but it was easy to distance myself from him. It’s not like that with you. So, yes, I beat you up, we lock you away, we make you see the things we saw…but it wasn’t you, Zack. We’ve got to stop acting like it was, or else we’ll never get better."

"There’s getting better?"

"Yes. And that comes with learning to live with what happened."

"I don’t think I can."

"Fine. Sit here and rot, then. That sure as hell isn’t the Zack I know. The Zack I know doesn’t call it quits because things might get hard. Yes, it hurts like hell, but that won’t go away until you make it go away."

"The things I did to them…to you…"

"I know. And hey, I’m not over it." Buffy shrugged. "I want to be. I say I am, I act like I am, but I’m not. I won’t be over it until we try to get over everything. But we have to deal with things like adults now. You killed people. You killed Fred. You hurt people we love. You raped me. But the thing is…the Zack I know didn’t do any of those things. It’s confusing as hell, but that’s the way it is. Punishing you is punishing us, and I’m not going let myself be victimized anymore."

She crossed her arms and turned at her heel. "Just letting you know, you’re coming home soon. And you’re going to have to look people in the eye. Me, Spike, Wright, and yes, even Kelly. She might not be ready, but she’s going to have to be. So get ready, Morris. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet."

Then she was gone, leaving him gaping after her.


	43. Chapter 43

The foyer of the Hyperion once again turned into a waiting room as all but two of the tenants gathered in anticipation of the return of one of their youngest warriors. The scene would have been comical if anyone was in a mood for humor, since they were nearly all pajama-clad with hair disheveled with sleep. Instead, no one spoke and avoided eye contact as they contemplated the likelihood of another happy ending.

The crowd was focused around Kelly, though she was given a wide berth. As she sat stoically in a chair facing the door, no one dared to obstruct her view with their pacing.

The silence stretched on for nearly a half hour before Wright cracked. "I think I better go get dressed and head out there." He looked at his wife as he whispered.

She shook her head. "It shouldn’t be much longer, should it?"

Wright sighed and went back to watching Rosalie play with her baby sister.

It was near five minutes before the next person spoke. Giles had been pacing frantically back and forth. Nearly a dozen times he had removed his glasses for polishing on his tee-shirt. "What in the world could possibly take Buffy so long?" The question was likely rhetorical as he didn’t bother to look up toward anyone. Not even Spike bothered a response as he stood motionless against the wall.

Melody held William tightly to her chest as she rocked him back and forth. "Is anybody hungry? I can make something." The lack of response was her answer.

Suddenly, Kelly leapt out of her seat and Spike moved away from the wall. In a blink of an eye, both were at the door reaching for the handle. As soon as Spike had the knob turned Kelly had scooped up her daughter into her arms.

"Thank God," Giles sighed as he made his way to Kelly’s former seat and collapsed.

The silence slowly dissolved as everyone whispered their relief to those closest to them.

"Should’ve know you’d have somethin’ to do with this," Spike snapped as he made eye-contact with a sheepish Xander.

"In no way, shape or form am I completely responsible for this," Xander replied as he threw his hands up in surrender.

"The girl is a sneaky little liar," Anya calmly responded. "Children are evil spawns of deception and manipulation. I was suspicious, but Xander was gullible."

"’Ello, Anya," Spike drawled as he turned around and headed back into the Hyperion.

"Who are they?" Rosalie asked as the couple followed Spike inside.

"Meet the B Team," Faith replied. "Well, I don’t really know her, but can guess since she’s with Xander."

"Hi, Faith," Xander said dryly. "Didn’t think you’d be able to make it out on good behavior."

"There are a lot of ridiculously dressed people here," Anya commented. "Especially the one dressed in the maternity clothes."

Everyone looked around until finding Hunter. He was indeed wearing a pair of Cordelia’s sweat pants and a black maternity tee with glittery pink writing announcing ‘Baby on Board’.

"I haven’t had an opportunity to make it to the local shopping mall," Hunter muttered with a blush.

"The question really wasn’t answered," Gunn commented. "We still don’t know who the hell they are."

"In a lack of judgment in her youth, my wife made the decision to choose him as one her best mates," Spike said, nodding at Xander. "Then, he started screwing a vengeance demon."

"Former," Anya corrected Spike. "Seriously, would I be here if I still had that going on?"

"Anyanka?" Hunter asked as he stepped forward.

The newest blonde arrival smiled brightly. "The one and only."

Hunter grinned with excitement. "I wrote a research paper on you back when I was at university."

"Really? Was that before you grew a vagina and got pregnant?"

Hunter’s smile faded as he took a step backward. "Something like that," he murmured.

Xander turned to Spike. "I think the real important question is why in the hell didn’t you call us and tell us Zack had lost his fricking soul?"

Spike gave the man a dark look. "You mean, why didn’t we call two completely useless idiots down in Sunnydale while we were dealing with an evil, murderous vampire? Must’ve slipped my mind."

Before Xander could craft a response, the situation with Kelly and Rosie changed. For the past few minutes, Kelly had sat on her knees as the door cradling her daughter in her arms. As both cried, she held a tight to her little girl and stroked her hair. As the situation caught up with Kelly, her gratitude of having her baby back turned into a rage at ever having to worry about her safety at all. She pulled Rosie back to look in the child’s eyes as screamed. "Why? Why would you do that? Why would you go after I told you no?"

Rosie was nearly incoherent through her sobs. "I had to. I had to Mommy! He…he needs us."

"No!" Kelly roared as she shook her daughter. "Rose Morris, I had said no!" She shook her harder as a squeak erupted from the girl. "How could you?!?"

Giles got up and ran over to stop Kelly from hurting Rosie in her moment of uncontrollable emotion. "Kelly, no!" he cried as he grabbed Rosie and pulled her back. There was a brief moment where he wasn’t sure she was going to release the child, but Kelly relaxed her grip and dropped her hands to her sides.

Mother and child looked up with identical looks of terrified confusion. Giles released a shaky sigh. "Rosie knows she’s in trouble. We’ll take some time to figure out an appropriate punishment." His gaze went squarely to the young girl. "And you will be punished."

The group took their cue and turned to head back to their beds and unfinished dreams. But before Gunn could make it to the first step, the door swung open once more and Buffy and Willow appeared.

The Slayer vampire made a quick assessment of the situation and decided now was the time. "Good morning, everybody," she chirped. Then, as she looked to her husband, her tone turned more serious. "We all need to talk."

*~*~*

Josh was mildly surprised when Sam appeared at his office door. He looked up from some out of date polling stats dealing with favorability women had toward a single male candidate. He didn’t like it. "I thought you were heading to Sacramento to turn in the application."

Sam shrugged. "Apparently, the flight this morning was booked."

Josh grinned. "Don’t they know they’re dealing with the future governor of California?"

"Apparently not." With that he walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the current Chief of Staff’s desk. "Have you talked to the President yet?"

"Yeah. He’s not too pleased, but I’m sure he’ll forgive me once I get you elected." He flashed a cocky smirk. "Which would help out a lot if you could get married in say the next week or two."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Well, that’s one way to bring up the conversation."

"What?"

"I want to call Willow."

"As you campaign director I advise against that."

"I’m not coming to you as a campaign director. I’m coming to you as a friend." Sam released a shaky sigh. "I know we called things off, but I really want to give her a call and see if everything is alright. My phone kinda got destroyed and I was hoping you could give me her number."

"Look, if your coming to me as a friend I’m going to give you some advice: run."

"Josh—"

"You’re talking about a lunatic lady! Not only is she some mega-powerful witch, but she’s a crazy magic freak who went all evil and tried to destroy the world."

"You don’t have to exaggerate just because you don’t like me talking to her."

"No, talking would be fine. You’re thinking you can have some enchanted love affair with the Dark Arts instructor at a invisible school in England."

"Defense," Sam countered defensively. "She teaches against it."

"Because she’s been there and done that." Josh sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sam, give her a call in a few months. After this campaign is in the bag. Then, you can go and talk all you want with her."

Sam didn’t look at all pleased. "Fine."

"Thank you."

"Can I at least have her number?"

"No."

"But I just promised to leave her alone until the election."

"Yes, but you’re a politician and I learned never to trust anything you guys say."

*~*~*

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Wright snapped as soon as Buffy had finished explaining her reasoning for bring Zack back into the Hyperion. "I mean, did Willow splinch your brain or something?"

"Hey!" the witch countered. "There was no Apparation involved so leave me out of it."

"You are remembering that you’re talking about the guy who fucking killed Fred," Gunn spat. "Not to mention Nikki and Faith and an entire family."

"I can’t…" Kelly muttered for the countless time.

"Buffy," Giles began. "I understand the logic behind the suggestion, but I’m not sure there has been an adequate amount of time to contemplate the impact of bring Zack back here."

"I disagree," Buffy countered. "We’re gonna have to deal with souled up Zack before we can think about moving past everything else. You know damn sure that Wolfram and Hart haven’t taken a break for emotional distress.

"That being true," Cordelia ventured. "Why do we have to bring him here?"

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do with him?" Wright snarled. "I have one locked up in the basement and the other shut up in his room."

"Zack isn’t a threat," Buffy stated. "He hasn’t been a threat to anyone but himself from the moment Willow worked her magic." She sighed and looked around for support. She had her husband by her side, but knew he was unable to fully support her current decision at the moment. "I’m not telling anyone to forgive and forget. And I’m not saying that we can ever go back to before. But we’re in the middle of a war and this is part of the battle."

*~*~*

Zack felt more trapped that ever before. The images were in his head whether they on the walls or not. At least, he was given a chance to see his family. He knew everything was safe and sound on the home front. Now he was left without being able to reassure himself that Wolfram & Hart hadn’t devised another ruthless plan to tear his world apart.

He knew Kelly was still in pain. He knew she still hated him. That wasn’t going to change. And he knew his children were still scared and confused. But, he wasn’t able to see if they were in harm’s way.

Zack crawled up off the floor. He paced the room for several minutes, concentrating on the walls where the live stream of his three cherished souls once played. Knowing that Willow knew her magic, he gave up and headed to the bathroom. Gratitude filled him briefly as he noted that the witch hadn’t counted the bars of soap as a security risk.

He wasn’t completely healed, but the blood and prior dose of Skelegrow had done the best they could. As he gingerly stripped off his clothes and threw them in the corner, he tried not to focus on the barrage of scars that now decorated his skin. He felt ugly and damaged, but knew every mark was deserved tenfold.

Turning the water on to scalding, he moved under the shower spray. He could still smell Rosie all over his skin, and while her visit was a miracle to his soul, every time his nostrils breathed in her sweetness, his heart cringed in his chest. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

He scrubbed every inch of his skin. The drain turned red, then pink. He couldn’t determine if it was all his own, but he watched it disappear nonetheless. Scrubbing until his arms ached, he waited for the water to run clear and then let it burn him a little more.

Life wasn’t fair. It was a lesson he knew all too well, but it didn’t stop his mind for seeking solace. Couldn’t he blame all of this on someone else?

Kelly had been selfish. She hadn’t wanted to let go of him when his time as a human had come. Instead of letting him die, she had begged Spike to change him. Had he asked for that?

Spike was also to blame. He could have let him die. Told Kelly that it wasn’t worth it. Told her that being a vampire was a whole lot more than escaping the big goodbye. But no. Had Spike been weak or had he been selfish as well?

Of course, Derek Morris held the highest degree of blame. Not only had he came after Rosie and William, but he had actually created another son for the sole sake of killing.

Was it Derek’s fault that darkness filled him? Was it his father’s DNA which had given his mind the capability to delve so deep into darkness once his soul was out of the picture. Or could he blame it on Spike’s blood? The vampire had been a notorious killer in the days before Buffy’s love and Zack knew only the tip of what his sire had done.

Could he blame Zack Wright? If he had just died a little easier then we wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this.

Zack shook his head in disgust and shut off the water. He had excuses, but not a one of them changed the fact that it was his hands which had brought the bloodshed.

Acceptance would come a lot quicker than forgiveness.

*~*~*

The group meeting left everyone with an opinion and no one in agreement. Hunter had retired to his room to catch up on sleep, though Wright heard him threatening to steal the closest vehicle and skip toward a Wal-Mart under his breath. Apparently, being caught by a renowned vengeance demon while donning maternity clothing had been the straw that broke the camel’s back in terms of pride. No one would be surprised if he disappeared for a few hours.

For her part, Rosalie had seemingly had enough of solitude. She and Cordelia were out shopping for the baby, presumably getting their minds off the unattractive topic of Zack Morris and what was to become of him. Melody had tagged along, as well, along with her grandson, whom she thought might do well with some distance from his unstable mother. Moreover, she and Giles weren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye, and while their relationship remained undefined, neither wanted to quarrel. For the moment, it seemed best to avoid one another and come to terms with the fact that Melody would always see her baby boy, whereas the seasoned watcher would see a wounded, potentially dangerous vampire.

In the meantime, Wright, Gunn, Faith, and Willow had retreated to one of the hotel’s more private areas to discuss what was to be done in the event that Zack was moved back to the Hyperion. They had space to consider, as well as an unstable Wesley cornered in his room and a psychopathic madman in the basement. Finding a corner for Zack would be problematic at best, and no one knew whether or not it was something they wanted to avidly pursue.

Wesley remained in his room. If he had any inkling the conversation tickling the air in the hall, no one knew it. As Willow had noted that morning, the acoustics in the Hyperion were amazing, so they had to operate on the assumption that he knew…and that was tragically dangerous ground.

After much deliberation, Xander and Anya finally retreated to a spare room to catch up on the sleep they’d promised themselves hours before.

In the hall outside of the children’s room stood Spike, Buffy, Kelly, and Giles. Rosie waited inside, sitting studiously on the floor.

"I don’t think I can," Kelly said for the seventh time. Every time she braved a glance at the doorway, her resistance shattered and her inner demon roared with life she’d never before considered. Not with Zack, not with the emotional roller-coaster that had been her life these last hellish weeks, not with anything else. Even mentioning Rosie’s name rendered her unbalanced, and if the display downstairs was any indication of her volatility, putting her in a room alone with her daughter was possibly the world’s worst idea at the present.

"She won’t listen to me," Buffy said, avoiding Kelly’s eyes. She and her childe hadn’t spoken directly since the Zack conversation, and this wasn’t the time to bring it up. "I never held any authority with her. Giles?"

The watcher scoffed. "I’m her grandfather. Grandfathers do not dole out punishment…at least not the sort that is meant to be taken seriously."

Inevitably, all eyes turned to Spike.

He cursed. "Bloody hell."

"It has to be you," Buffy said.

"Please," Kelly agreed, nodding. "She’ll listen to you."

"How you figure?"

"You were always the only one who could discipline her," Buffy said. "Before…when she was a toddler. She’d listen to you when she wouldn’t listen to Zack."

"Yeah, and we all agreed that was unhealthy."

"Maybe then, but these are mitigating circumstances."

Spike shrugged. "No telling if I’ll make a bloody dent. It’s been a long time since I tried to do any sort of—"

"She will listen to you," Giles assured him softly. "No matter how much time has passed. Strange as it is, you were one of the first people she learned not to disobey. She respects your authority, even if she doesn’t know it. It’s ingrained. You can’t unlearn things like that. Not at this age. I don’t care how smart she is."

Spike sighed. "I’m not gonna get a say, am I?"

"Nope," Buffy said.

"It’s been a bloody long time since I raised my voice to her. What if she—"

"She still respects it, though," Buffy observed. "Even if you don’t realize it. Remember when we got here? She ran off unsupervised? We were the ones who came after her, but you were the one who scolded. She responded to that, Spike."

They paused and looked at each other. It felt a lifetime had passed since then.

"All right," Spike said, his shoulders dropping. "So what’s the punishment?"

*~*~*

It felt strange. Bloody strange. At once something that came second-nature, as innate as drinking blood, needing a good brawl, or shagging Buffy, Spike had been as close to Rosie’s father as it got. She would cry when he yelled at her, beg his forgiveness when she’d been bad, reach for him when she was upset, and spend hours in his company as part of her never-ending need for his approval. That hadn’t been right, and hard as it was, he and Buffy had put an end to it. Rosie was not his daughter and he wouldn’t will it that way were it possible, but she was as close to one as he was likely to ever come. The past few years had been a measure of schooling himself to behave like an uncle, and while their relationship remained sound, he wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t changed.

Therefore stepping into the room as the only viable father figure around made him about comfortable as stepping into a church.

"So," Spike said, clearing his throat. "Guess you know what’s coming."

Rosie sat still in the middle of the floor.

"Been talking to your mum. She’s angry as hell."

"I know."

"Has a right mind to wring your neck."

"I know."

"And she’s given me the ever-so-joyous task of doling out punishment." Spike sighed again and slid his hands into his pockets. "So this is how it’s gonna work, Bit. You made a mess of things. You might think like an adult most of the time, but you’re not one. You won’t be one for a ways yet. And your pap, as much as you love him, hurt a lot of people."

"But he’s—"

"Better. I know. And I know he’s sorry." Boy, was that ever a big lump to swallow. "But what you want isn’t more important than what your mum wants. Or what’s right for the lot of us. There are people here that aren’t ready to see him again."

"They’re dumb. I want my daddy."

Spike’s temper flared and his patience slipped. "Not up to you, pidge."

"Well, it should be."

"It’s not. And since you behaved like a child, you’re gonna be punished like one. Now, in my day, I’d lock you in a coal bin until you screamed that you were sorry…but the watcher seems to think that’s a little…what’s the word he used…."

"BARBARIC!" Giles yelled through the door.

"Ah," Spike said. "There it is. So here’s what we’re gonna do, pidge." He raised his hand and counted off, "One: no television."

Rosie had the audacity to give him a bored stare in response.

"Two," he said, "no toys."

She yawned.

"Three: unless you’re eating or your mum needs you, you’re staying in this room. We’re gonna have Aunt Willow mojo it up like she did your dad until you apologize, sincerely, for what you did to your mum. And to Giles. And to Buffy." He paused and raised his chin. "And to me, while we’re at it."

"You?"

"Interrupted my morning."

Her eyes narrowed a bit, but she had yet to protest.

"Four: no books."

There it was. Her eyes widened and her jaw fell slack. "What?"

"No books above your age-recommended reading level. Definitely no books in funny languages, about demons, magic, mythology, or anything of the like. Nothing from Giles’s library or the library downstairs."

"You can’t do that!"

He smirked, a little thrill running up his spine. "Just bloody did, sweetheart."

"Giles won’t let you!"

"His idea." Spike grinned cheekily and bounced a bit on his heels. "Now, you are, of course, free to read to William. Those Little Golden Books oughta do. And they’re right around your age."

"I read at a tenth-grade reading level!"

"Yeah, and that’s just not natural for a tyke your age," Spike reasoned. "So you’ll read what we give you to read, and you’ll stay in this room unless your mum takes you somewhere else. And if you should manage to get your greedy li’l paws on one of Giles’s books, you’ll get a little shock."

"A shock?"

"Electric shock. Just to remind you what you’re not allowed to touch."

Rosie stared at him for a few long seconds before huffing and crossing her arms, looking every bit her age at that moment. "This is so unfair," she whined.

"Guess we have different understanding’s of that word’s definition. You’re not an adult, you’re a child."

Her face scrunched up. "I am not!"

"Oh, I think you are."

"This is stupid. You can’t make me."

"Wanna bet?"

"You’re not my daddy!"

Spike’s eyes darkened. "Yeah. You can tell I’m not your dad by the fact that you’re still alive and I haven’t offed anyone you care about."

A fist thumped on the door. "Spike!" Giles shouted warningly.

Rosie scowled at him unrepentantly. "I hate you."

Flustered, Spike staggered back and sputtered the first thing that came to mind. "Well, fine. I hate you, too."

A still beat pressed between them. Rosie’s jaw about hit the floor.

Suddenly, the control he’d so richly enjoyed had left the building. He became very aware of himself, which wasn’t good, and the fact that people were outside listening to the fabulous blunder that was Spike’s Parenting Skills. And to think, he’d started off with such promise…

"Right, urrr…" Spike managed, his feet carrying him back toward the door. "So, you just sit there an’ think about what you did. And when we decide you can have your books back, you can…have your books back."

"Stupid vampire," Rosie huffed, sniffling a bit.

He decided to let that one go, instead turning on his heel and parading back into the hallway.

"Sod off," he snapped at the blank faces that greeted him. "Like to see any one of you do any better."

Then, with a convicted nod, he stormed down the hallway and toward the foyer.

He suddenly really needed a cigarette.

*~*~*

"Just a show of hands," Wright volunteered, his eyes scouring the room. It had taken some hunting, but he and Gunn had unearthed what appeared to be a staff conference room at the far end of the hotel—in the twisted, winding halls of space no one had bothered to investigate since calling the Hyperion home. "Who thinks this is a good idea?"

Faith crossed her arms and snickered. "Doesn’t matter what we think, babe. If B has made up her mind, the discussion’s over."

Gunn snickered. "Who died and made this bitch king, huh?"

"Hey," Willow admonished, frowning.

"She kinda did, Charlie," Faith offered. "And here I thought you’d remember that."

"Just saying," he continued, "this is our turf, isn’t it? We get the say in who stays and who doesn’t. After what that asshole did to Fred…to Nikki and, fuck, to the rest of us, why the shit should we roll out the carpet for him?"

"Guys, I know this isn’t the ideal," Willow said simply. "But we’ve been here before and we’ve done the drawn-out punishment thing. It doesn’t work, especially since the guy we want to punish has—"

Faith held up a hand. "Yeah, Red, we heard this downstairs. Zack isn’t evil and the real killer left the building. Yadda fucking yadda."

"And just because you’ve lived it don’t mean shit for us," Gunn agreed.

"So you’re going to ignore what we say because we disagree with you? Let me know how that works."

"Do you?" Wright said gently, his eyes on Willow. "Disagree, I mean. You didn’t say much during Buffy’s little ‘this is how it is’ speech downstairs, but you didn’t look particularly thrilled, either. Do you think letting Zack in here is gonna be good for anybody?"

Willow fell thoughtfully silent at that, worrying a lip between her teeth. In all honesty, she hadn’t given the matter much thought. As present as she’d been the past few days, she really hadn’t been around during the worst of Zack’s reign of terror, and therefore only caught glimpses of the aftermath and the precautions being taken to rebuild. She hadn’t known Nikki or Fred too horribly well, and while her personal connection with those who had died meant little in the long run, she similarly felt seasoned enough in the cold black and white differences between those with souls and those without. From what she could tell, Zack’s case had been a rather standard run of chaos; people just felt it more because of where they were in their lives, and because no one had had the courage to kill him when it would have saved someone’s life.

Zack’s evil wasn’t more or less than Angel’s had been; it just seemed more because of all the people to whom he was connected. This wasn’t an isolated vampire floating through history in some never-ending quest for redemption: Zack had never felt the call of his inner demon before Wolfram and Hart hijacked his soul. He’d never experienced it, which likely made dealing with it a thousand times worse. Furthermore, he had a wife and two children, not to mention an extremely close relationship with Spike and Buffy. And because of where they were—because the Hyperion was full of people who knew and cared for each other—it had been even simpler to wreak havoc than had Angelus’s run in Sunnydale. In one way or another, Zack had managed to directly affect everyone he cared about, whereas Willow and Xander had only experienced Angelus through Buffy and Giles. Sure, they’d both known and cared for Jenny Calendar, but neither one of them had loved her.

So yes, it felt different now, and even if it was different, it was different in such a way that prolonging the recovery period would only make it worse. Angel hadn’t garnered any sympathy from anyone save Buffy when he returned from Hell, and perhaps that had been a mistake. If anything, as Buffy said, punishing someone who looked like a criminal did little in the long run. No one here felt any better because Zack was across town. Kelly sure as hell didn’t sleep soundly at night, and if he wasn’t going to be killed for his sins, then he should be forgiven.

They had to move on.

"Willow," Wright said dryly.

"Yeah?"

"You kinda spaced out there for a sec."

She blinked and grinned sheepishly. "I do that sometimes. What was the question?"

"Do you think bringing Zack back here is gonna do anyone here any favors?"

"Well, is it doing anyone any favors having him where he is now?" she countered.

Gunn snorted. "It keeps me from staking the bastard on the sake of not wanting to waste bus fare."

Faith shrugged. "Keeps me from having to hogtie Wes."

"Yeah, but, what are we waiting for?" she replied. "We don’t think we should kill him and he’s just…rotting away over there. If we’re gonna move on, we have to…you know, move on. You can’t tell me, Faith, that you ran all the way across town to stop Wes from killing Zack because you needed the exercise."

She shrugged again. "Don’t want Z to die," she agreed. "But I can’t feel too warm and fuzzy about him just yet. The guy fucking killed me."

"He killed Nikki," Wright said again. "And Fred."

"And all those things will be true tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Do any of you think it’ll stop hurting?" Willow sighed and shook her head. "Look, I didn’t lose anyone because of Zack, I know. But I have before. I lost…I thought I lost someone. Until recently, when Buff told me that our memories weren’t our memories. Those false memories gave me someone who was murdered right in front of me. Someone real…and wonderful. Someone…" She sniffed and turned away, her eyes blurring. Even now, years later, with a baby growing in her belly, she couldn’t quite convince herself Tara had been a fabrication. Their time together had been too wonderful, too real, to be a lie. "I lost her, and it killed me. It still kills me, and I tried to destroy the world as a result. In a big ole literal way…but that didn’t make the pain better. All my anger and hatred did was bury my heartache deep inside me, so when it was gone, all I felt was…pain. And that was hard as hell."

"It wasn’t real," Gunn offered briskly.

Willow’s head snapped in his direction, her eyes going black for a second. "It. Was. To. Me."

Faith’s hands came up. "Whoa, girl."

"Gunn, cut the shit," Wright agreed, eyeing Willow uneasily. "I get what you’re saying," he said. "Fuck, I all but said the same to Wes. We can’t let ourselves get lost in these cycles because they seem easy. They only pretend to feel good, and it makes the crash fucking impossible to survive."

Calmer, the fire left her body. "Yes," she said softly. "Rage feels good when you’re in that much pain, but it doesn’t cushion the fall."

"So we bring him here," Wright said simply.

Faith blinked. "You’re sure?"

"Yeah. I’m sure."

"You’re the one who was askin’ not ten minutes ago if we thought B was bein’ a bit pushy."

"That was before Willow reminded me to take my own goddamn advice." Wright glanced to Gunn. "You’re gonna cooperate, or you’re out. I mean it. I know what he did. I fucking know it, but Willow’s right. Buffy’s right, too. We can’t keep putting it off. It won’t be any easier next year than it is right now."

"Time doesn’t heal if you don’t confront what needs healing," Willow added. "It just makes things worse."

At that, Faith looked down and crossed her arms, a wave of understanding at last crashing over her. Willow didn’t need to be told; she felt it. She felt the Slayer’s pull back to the days of Sunnydale and Mayor Wilkins, and the ego-driven, anger-fueled high she’d ridden until a coma knocked her off her feet. Even then, it had taken kidnapping and torturing Wesley before pain broke through the walls she’d built, and the fall after that had been damn near crippling.

Willow hadn’t realized until that moment just how much she admired Faith. It was a rather startling discovery.

"So how’re we gonna do this thing?" Gunn asked, his voice soft. "We got Wes locked up already, and he ain’t gonna throw Zack no parade once the word gets out."

"Not to mention Papa Morris in the basement," Faith added.

"I can do a quick spell for Wes," Willow offered. "I mean, he’s already in time-out indefinitely…I can just work some quick mojo to make it so he can’t hear us when we talk about Zack. Or even hears something different altogether."

Faith frowned. "Like what?"

"Name it. We bring up Zack, he can hear us talking about Quidditch."

"What’s Quidditch?" Gunn asked.

Wright just stared at Willow, mesmerized. "Is there anything you can’t do?" he asked, awed.

She wiggled. "I can’t fly. Or bring back the dead. But I can make pigs fly. That one’s fun."

"You’re scary."

"You’ve said that before."

"Saying it again. You’re scary. Remind me to never piss you off."

She nodded brightly. "Noted."

"So is Zack gonna be on house-arrest when he comes back?" Gunn asked.

Wright and Willow exchanged another glance.

"No," the former said. "He’s been locked up enough."

"Wow," Faith appraised. "Look at you, Z."

"I know. I’m growing before your very eyes."

Willow sighed deeply. "Now," she said, "for the hard part…"

"Getting him over here?" Faith said.

"He lost the ring, which means he can’t be moved during the day."

"And here I thought super-witch would have a remedy," Wright murmured.

Willow shrugged. "Can’t make it nighttime. Sorry. Also can’t mess with biology."

"Damn, Red. And we were about to be impressed," Faith retorted.

"No, we’re impressed." Wright expelled a deep sigh. "But we gotta get a room ready. Something tells me Mrs. Morris won’t want him in her bed. And we gotta get an extraction plan formed. Night means Angelus and friends can come and play, and we don’t want that."

"We also better put up some safety precautions here," Willow said. "So Wes can’t see him, should he get out of his room anytime soon. And we don’t want Zack staking himself here."

"Right. So you can mega-witch that."

"In a jiffy."

Wright shook his head and glanced at Faith. ‘Scary,’ he mouthed.

"All right," he said aloud. "How are we gonna divvy jobs? Volunteers or names from a hat?"

"Do you have hats here?" Willow asked.

"So, volunteers it is…"


	44. Chapter 44

"That. Was. Amazing." Donna rolled over on her side to face her fiancée. "Oh, and you weren’t that bad yourself." Her smirk turned into a grin as she watched Josh stare blankly at the ceiling was uneven deep breaths coming from his lips. "Don’t tell me that I’ve finally surrendered the infamous wiseass, Joshua Lyman, speechless."

"Ugh," was his only reply as a small smile came to his lips.

"I know," Donna sighed, leaning over to kiss him. Pulling away, she stated, "Remind me to send Willow a thank you bouquet for the…accessories."

Suddenly, Josh’s trace was broken. He turned to face his lover. "Have you talked to her?"

"Not since we got back. Why?" Her face immediately filled with fear. "Did something happen? Is everything alright?"

"Well, she keeps calling me. I don’t think she’s quite over Sam."

Donna expelled her nervous breath and rolled her eyes. "Well, I don’t think Sam’s quite over her either. He keeps bringing her up every time we’ve talked. Even when he called to get the name of that Japanese restaurant I was mentioning a month ago. He asked me if Willow likes hibachi chicken."

"Look, all I ask is that if she calls you, don’t give her his number."

"Isn’t that kinda meddlesome? Even for you?"

"Yeah, but I have good intentions."

"Is that we should put on your gravestone? Douche-bag with good intentions?"

"Donna!"

"Just asking?"

"I just know how bad Sam wants this. Sam wants to change the world and this is going to help him change California, which is kinda like changing America and Mexico at the same time."

"Are you doing this for Sam or for your ego?"

Josh gave her an offended look. "Like I wasn’t getting enough ego as the CoS for the most powerful man in the world? No, I’m completely doing this for Sam. And I know Sam can’t do this without me."

Donna was quiet for a few minutes as she gave Sam’s past a long and through examination. "Well, he kinda has a tendency to…what’s the word?"

"Fuck things up."

"Pretty much."

"Exactly. Remember the Laurie mess. Helping reform a prostitute isn’t a great idea when you’re writing speeches for the President of the United States."

"And his election to Congress didn’t exactly go the smoothest."

"Smooth? If his opponent hadn’t been discovered participating in a modern day slave trade, there wouldn’t have been a chance in hell of him making it."

She gave him a narrowing glance. "Did they ever prove he was running a slave trade?"

"There might have been a piece after the election claiming that he was actually just adopting lots of kids from third world countries, but that’s beside the point."

"And what exactly is the point?"

"The point is that Sam and Willow are a complete fuck up right now."

"But, I think you’re forgetting that Willow’s a—"

"Witch?"

"I was going to say intelligent woman. And she’s—"

"Gone evil and tried to take over the world?"

"Had years of practice intermingling in with the Muggle population. I don’t see her going out and planting hexes on opponents and jinxing the pundits."

"Well, I’m not going to take any chance in some Danny Concannon waltzing up to me to tell me that he’s traced her back to Hogwarts and knows that she not only practices witchcraft, but teaches it to little children."

"Fine. Tell this to Sam then. Let him make the decision on his own."

Josh gave a humorless. "Sam make the right decision? Yeah right."

The couple gave a little jump as the cell phone began to ring and vibrate on the table. Donna rolled over to reach it before turning back to face Josh. "It’s Willow," she chirped and she flipped her phone open. "Hello!"

Before the blonde could say another word, the phone was torn from her hands. "Donna!" Willow gasped. "Thank God I finally reached you! I’ve been trying with Josh for days and he’s been a complete asshole."

"Hello, Willow," Josh returned in a low voice. "I’ve been expecting this."

"Josh Lyman!" Willow screamed in exasperation. "Let me talk to Donna!"

"I don’t think I will. See, you’re a witch, but I have tricks you haven’t even thought of."

"I swear, Josh, if you don’t let me talk to Sam you are going to live to regret it. Now let me have his number!"

"You’re threats don’t scare me. If you were going to do something you would have done it yesterday."

"You’re a…"

"Yes…"

"JERK!" With that, the line went dead.

Josh handed the phone back to Donna, but wasn’t looking as victorious as would be expected. "What?" Donna asked as she placed the phone back on the table. "Finally realizing that antagonizing a powerful witch may not be a good idea?"

"She called me a jerk."

"And…" Donna wasn’t at all shocked.

"Am I a jerk?"

"No," she snickered. "Sometimes you’re a downright asshole."

"Donna!"

"Yes, most of the time you’re a jerk, but it’s the rare times when you’re a sweetheart that makes it bearable." She smiled. "And I wouldn’t have you any other way."

"But you agree that I’m a jerk?"

"Josh, you are a many a thing."

"And apparently a jerk, too."

"Apparently."

*~*~*

She had no idea what Melody was making her do it. Probably because the woman was under the delusion that the two of them were friends and that it would bring her some sort of joy to go bouncing up the stairs with presents.

Boy, was she wrong.

But, that didn’t stop Rosalie from walking up to Hunter’s room with the shopping bags of clothes that the new mother-hen of the Hyperion had picked out for the Fashion Police’s latest suspect. 

She hadn’t figured it would take Slayer insight to realize that as they went for an hour picking out pants, shirts, socks and underwear that it was obvious how uncomfortable she was with the situation. Cordy and Melody thought shopping was an art, whereas Rosalie saw it as a burden to deal with when the blood stains wouldn’t come out. Shopping for someone else, someone who supposed to be her boss, was last on her list of fun.

As she stood at the door, she could hear his gentle snores. With a deep sigh, she realized that this would be a test. All she had to do was get inside, drop the plastic bags and slip out. All without making a sound.

"Tracking demons is way harder than this."

Slowly she opened the door, making sure not to create the slightest squeak. She contemplated placing the sacks just inside the door and turning around, but decided to place them in a chair closer to the bed. Unfortunately, the sneaker in the middle of the floor was an unexpected obstacle as her ankle caught it in just the perfect position as to send her barreling to the floor.

"Bloody hell!" Nicholas stammered as he sat straight.

"Well, that went exactly how I planned it," she grumbled as she picked herself up off the ground.

"Rosalie? What are you doing in here?"

"I’m coming to wake you up so I could tell you that Melody and my mom bought you a bunch of clothes while we were out shopping. They felt sorry for you."

"Oh," Hunter responded lamely. "I…I don’t know what to say to that. Thank you."

The young woman felt suddenly awkward under his intense gaze. "Well, you know." She gave a shrug. "One, I didn’t want to get caught in public with you looking like a pregnant transvestite. Two, I figured that if you were raiding the ladies closets than the situation was getting dangerous. I didn’t want you walking out in one of my tanks tomorrow morning."

He gave her the smile she was going for. "You were a couple down the list. I was contemplating Giles for tomorrow’s wardrobe theft."

"Well, since we’re gonna have to start the official patrol thing pretty soon, figured safe was better than sorry."

"Agreed."

"Well…I guess I’ll let you get dressed now."

"Yes. And thank you again, Rosalie. It means a lot coming from you."

"Don’t mention it," she said as she headed to the door. She turned back and looked at the mess in the middle of the floor. "And I mean it. Don’t mention it. Ever."

"Deal."

*~*~*

Kelly stared blankly at the ceiling of her bedroom. She had spent the last few hours looking skyward, though she never once made focus on the tiles above her head. Instead, she was deep inside her own mind, forgetting for the first time in her new existence to breathe.

Her demon was battling a primal war with the humanity she had spent nearly thirty years developing. Her demon was demanding blood to sate the anger and hurt she had been subjected to over the past few weeks. At the same time, her humanity cried at the thought of bringing on any more pain to her children and loved ones.

She really didn’t want to kill their father. That probably wouldn’t help repair her parenting mistakes of late.

The thought of Rosie and William in pain and confusion because she hadn’t been able to deal with her emotions killed a part of her soul. A mother never wants to realize that they have failed at their most important role in life. And she had failed the moment she had taken her anger out on Rosie. She failed when she had been unable to comfort them when they had tears and questions.

She wasn’t sure if it would be easier to forgive Zack than herself.

Buffy had said she was going to bring Zack back to the Hyperion. She couldn’t remember the details, but knew that was her intention. She trusted Buffy’s judgment, but wasn’t sure she could trust herself. Her demon wanted to rip him to shreds and watch his blood slowly run out of his undead body. Her nostrils could still fill with the scent of Zack’s sex mixed with Darla, Faith and the others he had fucked. Every time the memories came back, bile filled her throat and she could taste the vomit on her tongue.

She just didn’t think she could do it.

But she knew she had to try. Her humanity told her that her own selfish desires couldn’t get in the way again. She couldn’t let her emotions get in the way of being a mother to Rosie and William again.

That didn’t mean she had to understand. And she didn’t. She didn’t understand how he could do it. She didn’t understand how the demon inside of the man she had loved could be capable of such evil. It all came back to her youth as a vampire, she supposed, but how could Spike live among them soulless and human, while Zack had become a heartless demon?

Kelly feared she knew the answer: the claim. Buffy’s humanity and good could overrule the demon inside Spike’s body. Guilt filled her with the idea that maybe all of this pain and suffering could have been prevented.

Maybe it was all her fault.

They had just returned home from their weekly dinner date. Buffy and Spike had headed across the hall to their apartment as Zack and Kelly went to their own. Paying Dawn and giving their thanks, mother and father had checked on their sleeping children before heading to the bedroom.

"I think we should do it," Zack said as Kelly slipped off her dress and reached for a nightgown.

"Do what?"

"We should claim each other."

She looked over at him with a look a bemusement. "You would."

"What’s that mean? You saw them at dinner. They can literally read each other’s minds. They spent half the night forgetting to talk to us."

"I know what you’re thinking without a claim." Kelly walked over and gave her husband a gentle kiss before focusing on preparing the bed for sleep.

"Oh yeah? What am I thinking right now?"

She giggled. "You’re thinking that a claim would improve our already improved sex life and that you want to go around performing Jedi mind tricks with me."

Zack frowned. "Not exactly."

"What did I get wrong?"

"Well…none of it but still! C’mon, you know that we’re going to be together until the end of time. Literally."

"So what’s a claim gonna change?"

"It’ll make us more in tune with each other."

"I don’t know, Zack…"

He flopped down on the bed and put his arms behind his head. "What? You want to keep your options open in case you fall for the only other souled vamp in existence? If you want Angel, just tell me now."

She smacked him with the pillow before he could react. "I wouldn’t want Angel if he was the last anything on Earth." She waited for Zack’s laughter to die down before she continued. "I just don’t think that I can do that to Rosie and baby William?"

"Do what? Give them a mother and father committed to loving each other? Man, that’s mean, Mom."

"Zack. That’s not what I meant. It’s just…I’ve seen Spike and Buffy together and…Buffy has said a few things to me about how the claim affects you."

He wrinkled a brow. "Like how?"

"Well, when you’re claimed you are saying to your body and mind that your first priority in life is your partner."

"That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, Kel."

"It is when you’re a parent. Remember Rosie and William?"

"Who’s Rosie and William?" He asked mockingly. Before she could snap back, he continued. "Kelly Morris, there is nothing in the world that would prevent you from being the best mother in the history of motherhood. No way for a second do I think our claim would change that."

"Well," she bit her lip. "I don’t want to take that chance. Not now, at least. Maybe when they’re older. Right now they need us too much."

Zack sighed and shook his head, though he couldn’t hide his smile. "That’s why you’re the greatest mother in the history of motherhood."

"I know," she teased as she crawled into bed and wrapped her arms around him.

"Seriously, you are the greatest thing in my life. You and that Rosie and William I keep forgetting about." He gave her a long kiss as his hands slipped inside her gown. "I just hope I can be half as great as you are."

Kelly didn’t notice the tears falling from her eyes. As she pushed her mind far away from the past and back into the present, she focused on the fact that she needed to repair the damage she had cause between her daughter and herself.

Pulling herself up off the bed she headed downstairs to make one of Rosie’s favorite snacks. Minutes later, with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in tow, she was at the door of Rosie and William’s room. With her free hand, she gave the door a gentle knock.

"Yes?" came a tiny voice on the other side.

Kelly couldn’t help but smile at the beauty of hearing her child speak. "May I come in?"

There was a noticeable pause. "I guess so."

Kelly walked in and was struck by the fear in her daughter’s eyes. Fear not caused by Rosie’s homicidal father, but by her. A small piece of her heart broke on the spot. "I brought you a snack." Her heart somewhat repaired itself when curiosity flashed on Rosie’s face.

"It’s peanut butter and jelly."

Rosie took a small step forward. "Did you cut off the crusts?"

"Don’t I always?"

That did the trick. Rosie walked over to accept the offering and sit herself down on the edge of the bed.

"Actually," Kelly said before taking a deep breath. "I came to apologize." The little girl looked up briefly before turning her gaze to her sandwich. "I am so sorry about how I reacted earlier. Last night, too. I should have never have let my own fear about everything come out as anger toward you."

"It’s okay," Rosie said lamely.

"No it’s not. Not at all. You and William deserve better than that and I just hope you can forgive me." There was a long pause when neither spoke. "I understand that you are insightful and intelligent beyond your years, but it was ignorant of me to think that you should be able to handle all of this on your own. Heck, even us adults are having trouble with everything."

"I know."

"I know you know, but that doesn’t change the situation." Kelly sighed. "Look, I’m not going to say that the next few days aren’t going to be awkward. You heard Buffy say that she’s bringing your dad back here. And I know you’re going to want to spend time with him. I’m not comfortable with it, but I won’t stop you. He’s as much your dad and I’m your mom. But, I just want you to know you can come to me at any time for anything. If you have questions or just want to talk about things I’m letting you know that I’m here. I’m back and I’m sorry I was away." She waited until Rosie looked up at her. "I just hope you forgive me."

The little girl was an enigma. Setting down her plate, Rosie got up and walked over to wrap her arms around her mother. "It’s okay, Momma. I forgive you."

Minutes of tears and hugs ensued. Sometime later when the emotions began to settle, Rosie found her voice. "Does this mean my punishment is over?"

Kelly broke out in giggles. "Not even maybe, girlfriend."

"But, Mom!" the child whined.

"But, mom what? You know you broke a sacred rule of childhood, Miss Rose. Whether you think it was right or wrong, I told you not to do something and you went and did that. More importantly, you ran away and didn’t tell us where you were. You put your safety at risk and that isn’t fair to you or me or even your dad."

Rosie gave a pouty sigh. "But my punishment is ridiculous."

"Your punishment was crafty. Papa Giles created a full-proof way to give you a much deserved lesson. You might think you know best, but for the next few years you’re going to have to deal with the fact we’re going to tell you what to do anyway."

"That’s silly."

"Well, maybe so, but that’s the perk of being the adult."

"Do I have to stay locked up in my room?"

"I don’t think that’s necessary. And I may be able to reconsider the T.V. and toy ban. But the books…oh that’s gonna haunt you for a while."

"This sucks," Rosie replied.

"Totally, but we’ll get through it, hun. We always do." 

*~*~*

They hadn't talked much since the meeting wherein Buffy announced she was bringing Zack home, though not for lack of opportunity. The years had been good to them in many ways, and though it was their natural tendency to fight, Buffy and Spike had managed to settle on a harmonious chord of mutual understanding. There were things Spike did that irritated the crap out of Buffy, but she never made mention of it unless it directly interfered with her plans or endangered the lives of others. Similarly, Buffy's natural tendency to err on the side of what was right often ran headfirst into a stone wall with Spike's irreverent regard for right and wrong. Time had worn down their defenses; the best way to keep the peace was turn a blind eye to things they disagreed upon. This didn't always work, of course, but it had bridged a nice cadence in the way their lives were lived from day to day. 

Buffy knew the second she met Spike's eyes in the foyer that this was one fight they couldn't avoid. It had been building for too long, now. Long before the first mention of Zack coming home. Really, ever since Spike had cut her down from her shackles, it had been inevitable. Too much tension remained between them. Tension that would boil at any provocation, no matter how small. 

It just so happened that the thing to send them over was something that wouldn't cool easily. 

"I just talked with Wright," Buffy said, shivering. Spike had stepped outside for a smoke after the disastrous conclusion to his disciplinary meeting with Rosie, and despite the furtive glances they'd exchanged, they hadn't had any private time since Kelly's blood-curdling scream. "He and Faith are on board." 

Spike nodded and grunted something. 

"I'm gonna see if Willow can go with. We'll need to leave here soon." She tossed a glance to the courtyard. "Sun sets in about an hour." 

Spike nodded again. 

Buffy expelled a deep breath, dragging her eyes back to his. "Are you coming with me?"

At that, every molecule in Spike's body froze. "Coming with you?" he repeated. "What the bloody hell do you think, Buffy?"

"Maybe that you'd get over yourself and realize this is about more than just you."

"Oh," Spike replied with a laugh. "Look who's talking, love. Didn't take a poll before you decided to drop the bomb, did you? Just told us that was the way it was and tough luck if we wanted it otherwise."

Buffy arched a brow. "Difference being this is the right thing to do."

"Why do you get to decide?"

"Because someone had to, Spike!" she said, waving. "We were just sitting here and twiddling our thumbs and waiting for someone to do something, so I did. I made the choice. No one had an alternative that sounded any better, so yes. That's the way it is."

"Look," he said hotly, his eyes blazing. "I'm sorry I'm not over it. Sorry I can't think of the bastard without seeing you or the kids or one of the hundred sodding things he did to us. So glad you were able to get over it first. But I—"

She choked a wounded laugh. "Over it?" she repeated. "Over it? There is no getting over this, you son of a bitch. You don't think I feel it? Every time I look at Wright's face, I see him. I feel him against me, tearing into me—"

"Stop it."

"—laughing and cutting—"

He balled his hands into fists. "Stop it!"

"—and it never gets better. It never gets better. But I can't live like this. I've tried and I've waited and I want to change. I can't do anything about that if we just keep plugging the hell along."

"You don't understand," Spike replied shortly. "I can't unsee it. I can't not see what he did to you. And I can't fucking take it. I can't stand it. Every time—"

"See it?" Buffy spat. "So that's it? That's your problem? Not Fred or Nikki or what he put his kids through, but what he did to me?"

His jutted his chin out. "That so hard to believe?"

"No, but…God, Spike, get over it!" She didn't realize she'd shouted until her voice bounced off the walls, echoing harshly through the hotel lobby and drawing attention to the audience they'd attracted. Wright, Kelly, Rosalie, Giles, Faith, and Willow had all gathered around the railing to see what the commotion was, and even though they shifted their eyes guiltily when they realized they'd been caught, they didn't move.

For his part, Spike just stared at her and panted hard, his eyes dangerous. "Get," he hissed, "over it?"

"Yes. Get over it."

"Just get over what he did—"

"I lived it. I was there. I was the one he raped and mutilated."

"Buffy—"

"Not you. So if that's your only real beef—"

"It's not—"

"—then you need to back the fuck off and learn to deal. Because, honey, this thing is happening whether you want it to happen or not. I'd prefer to have your help, but if you're gonna be too selfish to deal with this, even for me, then stay the hell away from me. I don't need this, especially not from you."

Buffy broke away and walked away, then, fighting the urge to bow to their audience.

She had too much on her mind to worry about this right now.

*~*~*

"Yikes," Willow murmured, tearing down the hallway just in case Buffy decided to join them upstairs. She hadn’t done much to hide the fact that she’d spied on them—as though any problem they had was her business—but running into her friend after witnessing that argument was the last thing on her agenda. She hadn’t seen Spike and Buffy fight much over the last few years—though that wasn’t saying much, given she’d lived on another continent, but she’d known their relationship was a good one. Hell, she’d once told Spike she had a shovel with his name on it if he ever hurt her friend.

Nothing had been right for a long time. She’d only been here a few days, it seemed, but keeping the fabric of their odd family together had never seemed so out of reach as it did now. Zack wasn’t evil but he still drove people apart. Sweet Kelly had come unhinged at the slightest hint of her estranged husband. Wesley was hurting and downright maniacal and Faith had taken a leadership role. Not to mention, Willow carried in her belly the seed of Sam Seaborn and had no direct way to contact him.

She was dangerously approaching the place where using the Imperious Curse on Josh Lyman seemed the best option, and she didn’t really much care for what that said about herself.

Willow sighed, stepping into an empty room at the end of the corridor. "No," she said aloud, glancing to her belly. "Use of an Unforgivable Curse wouldn’t be a very good way to start motherhood, would it?"

She paused, then pulled up her shirt a bit, revealing a flat stomach. It seemed so strange, so impossible, that something human lived inside her. Something that would eventually have a heartbeat, ten fingers and toes, eyes, nose, ears, and a mouth of its own. She’d never given too much thought to pregnancy, much less the ‘being a mom’ part that came with it. She had no idea how she was going to proceed from here. Obviously, Dumbledore would let her keep teaching, but who would look after the baby?

Ginny Potter, maybe. Ginny was likely Willow’s closest friend back in England. They had taken a liking to each other almost immediately during Ginny’s last year at Hogwarts—the one following the Great War. They were both fierce redheads, which was the first thing they’d found they had in common, but not the last. Yes, as Harry and Ron Weasley restructured the Ministry of Magic, she supposed she could count on Ginny to watch her baby. Ginny would want Willow to keep teaching, after all. 

"I’d like a daddy for you," Willow said absently, stroking her belly. "I’d like your daddy for you. You’d like him. He has an asshole friend who thinks he’s doing the right thing, but other than that, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. In fact, if you’re a boy, I’ll name you after him. Samuel Rosenberg. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Samuel…" Her eyes watered. "Osbourne. Yeah, that’s good. Samuel Osbourne Rosenberg."

"And if it’s a girl?"

Willow whirled around, her eyes bugging. Xander stood in the doorway, his face a mixture of confusion, hilarity, and anger.

"Xander…"

"You’re pregnant?"

"Just a little," she replied lamely.

"Just a little?! How did this happen?"

Willow frowned. "Ummm…do you want me to draw you a diagram?"

"Yes. I mean, no! I mean…" He took a step forward, eyes going from her face to her stomach, which she still had on display, as her hand had yet to release her shirt. "You’re pregnant."

"Yeah."

"You don’t look pregnant."

"I won’t for a while," she said, letting her shirt fall back into place. "Probably. At least, I don’t think so. I’ve never been pregnant before."

Xander blinked stupidly, shaking his head. "God, this is so fucked up."

"That I’m pregnant?"

"Yes. No! That…all of it." He waved at the hall. "Anya and I just got here yesterday and already Zack’s lost his soul, killed people, Kelly’s gone bonkers, and now you’re pregnant."

"To be fair, that didn’t all happen yesterday."

He scowled. "You know what I mean!"

"Hardly ever."

"Thanks for that."

"And Rosalie’s the new Slayer."

"All right, well, I don’t know who Rosalie is or what happened to the old one, but thanks for that one, too."

Willow shrugged. "Zack killed her. Faith."

"Faith…the one who’s been walking around and slapping my ass? Murderous, psychopathic, jailbird Faith."

"She thinks she owns it. It was her ass first, you know."

"Not the point, Will!"

"And she’s neither murderous nor psychopathic nor a jailbird anymore."

"Yeah, and that’s happened, too."

"Though not since you got here. All that happened well before you got here. Well before I got here, even."

"Whose is it?"

Willow stared at him. "Your ass?" she volunteered. "I’m guessing Anya’s, unless you have something to tell me."

"Not my ass, the baby! Whose is it?"

"Since it’s in my uterus, I’m going with mine."

"The father, Will!"

She blinked at him again, then laughed harshly. "Yeah," she drawled. "That’s happening."

"Some jackass knocked you up. I wanna know who!"

"He’s a jackass, now? You have no idea who it is!"

"Yeah, but he’s not here!"

"How do you know?"

"Because that would mean it’s Giles’s."

Willow made a face. "Giles’s?"

"Well, there are other potential fathers, but he’s the only one I could think of offhand." Xander shook his head. "And I know it’s not Giles’s, because that’s gross, Will. Plus I heard you say his name was Samuel. Who the hell is Samuel?"

"The father."

"Yes, I gathered that much. When was there ever a Samuel?"

Willow gestured emphatically. "I live across the world, Xander! It’s not like we talk often anymore. There have been plenty of Samuels!"

Okay, so that was a lie, but she had nowhere else to go.

"Plenty?"

"Of Samuels," she said, nodding. "And Philips and Todds and Howards and even one Leonard. Dumbledore likes to set me up, and I like to let him. I’m sorry I didn’t find my vampire mate or former vengeance demon when you guys hooked up, but I haven’t had the best luck when it comes to my love life. My werewolf boyfriend was killed by an unstable, Voldemort-controlled vampire and my girlfriend, if she existed, was murdered by an idiot with a gun. And now I’m in love with someone I can’t have, as it’s been made abundantly clear to me, and he doesn’t know I’m pregnant. I’m beginning to think he won’t know."

"I’ll make him know."

"No, you won’t."

"Watch me."

"What?" she snapped. "You gonna hunt down every Samuel and ask if they happened to bang Willow Rosenberg that one week where her vampire friend tried to kill everyone she knew? Jesus, Xander…"

"He hurt my Willow!"

"Your Willow isn’t your Willow!" She expelled a deep breath and shook her head. "Look, I know this is a strange situation. I get that. This entire situation is a strange one…not just the baby-having part. But we need to not catastrophize my pregnancy because everything else is strange. I’ll be fine. I’m a grown-up. I have my own microwave and everything."

"Witches need microwaves?"

"Yeah, no. Point, Xander…I’m okay. We’ll be okay. With or without the daddy in the picture."

It took a few seconds of staring before the fire behind Xander’s eyes began to fade. He glanced to her stomach again before meeting her gaze. "Yeah," he said slowly. "All right. So you’re not gonna tell me who the father is."

"Finally getting that, eh?"

"Not even a little hint?"

"Already gave it to you."

"Yeah, but that doesn’t count, ‘cause you didn’t know you were giving it." Xander stepped forward and quickly took her into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest. "You know if you need anything—anything—I’m your first phone call."

Her vision blurred again, and she honestly didn’t know whether or not she could blame it on the hormones. "Xan—"

"I mean it. I don’t care if you’re on Mars, I’m your first phone call. I’ll get there as fast as I can." He gave her a good squeeze. "I love you, Will."

"Love you, too."

They broke apart long after the hug crossed that boundary separating sweet from awkward, mutually wiping their eyes and laughing, though nothing seemed funny at the moment. It wasn’t until Willow waved at the door to indicate she was stepping out that he spoke again.

"So," he said. "What will you call it if it’s a girl?"

She paused at the door. The boy names meant something to her insofar as what they represented. Sam, the baby’s father, and the man she loved. Oz, the boy she’d loved as a teenager, and the man she’d lost. The last serious relationship she’d had. It made sense, then, that a girl would have the name of the woman she’d loved the most.

"Tara. Tara Nicole."

"Nicole?"

She shrugged. "Rosalie’s aunt, Nikki. I didn’t know her, but I think it’d mean something to them."

Then she stepped into the hallway, leaving Xander alone in the room.

*~*~*

"They’re moving him tonight."

Lilah Morgan nodded, not turning from the window at which she stood. "Yes," she said softly. "I know."

She’d known ever since receiving the phone call from her newest mole. Gavin Park likely didn’t realize she was the one who had passed along the information.

Gavin stood in her doorway, something she couldn’t typically abide. Like most Wolfram and Hart lawyers, he was a sneaky, sadistic son of a bitch who would gladly slit her throat if it paved the way for advancement with the Senior Partners. She knew because she would do the same—all of them would. And he wasn’t here to pass on information with a mind for being helpful. He was here because he knew Zack Morris had meant something to her at one point.

Lilah was no quivering wallflower, and she certainly possessed a sensibility when it came to men and sex. Relationships made one weak, which was why she’d never entered one that had been for anything other than money or pleasure. Emotions clouded judgment, which was why she’d worked so tirelessly at eradicating her own. Still, for as little as they’d known each other, she’d come to like Zack. The Zack she knew, anyway. The Zack who’d fucked her on her desk more times than she could remember during his brief stint as LA’s bad boy. She had pretended not to care when the Do-Gooder patrol stuffed a soul back in him, even more so when she’d led the expedition to have it removed once more, only to encounter the most advanced magical guard she’d ever witnessed. The little meddling witch had done her homework, and done it well. Zack’s humanity couldn’t be touched by any means she’d encountered. Their use for him had dried up.

"Holland has authorized and extermination squad," Gavin reported cheerily. "We’re welcome to go watch with the guys from real estate. There should be refreshments."

"An extermination squad?"

"That’s right."

Lilah snorted. "Good luck. If they still have the little witch on their side, the extermination squad’s bound to find themselves exterminated."

"We’ve already calculated that into our plans, Lilah. Surely, you didn’t expect Holland to underestimate the odds, did you?" Gavin smiled greedily, his hands sliding into his pockets. "We’re removing her power."

"Removing her power? That’s impossible."

It was. They’d already hashed this out time and time again at numerous meetings, all centered on how to stifle Willow’s power. It was literally impossible to do without killing her, and that was almost impossible, as well. Even without her power, she had built in a strong personal defense charm that couldn’t be unlocked with any amount of ease.

This was something they’d learned in England the hard way.

"Long-term, yes," Gavin agreed. "It’s very possible for about an hour or so."

Lilah considered this. It was a dangerous move—a very dangerous move. Willow Rosenberg had already proven herself to be an adversary almost as lethal as the new Order themselves. The power she wielded was the envy of the law firm, and damn near unmatched by those around her. The years had seen to that—seen to her rediscovering the magicks she possessed and how to keep them under control.

That wasn’t the way the firm wanted Willow. The firm wanted her the way they’d constructed her—fierce and unstable, and liable to end the world should things not go her way. She’d been there once before, thanks to the implanted memories, but time had given her an arsenal of defenses Wolfram and Hart could never have anticipated. Luring Willow to point of madness wasn’t a viable option anymore…at least not at the moment.

Removing her power was a good, short-term solution, as Gavin said. After Willow learned what they’d done, though, and for what purpose…

"Damn," Lilah muttered. She liked the way her office looked now. It’d be a bitch to redecorate.

"Ye of little faith," Gavin retorted.

"Ye of little reality. She’s going to rip these walls down with her bare hands."

"A scenario we’ve already considered." He shrugged as though the results were of no outstanding consequence, then turned his back on her. "And we put it on the wire so Angelus and Darla might pick it up," he said. "At any rate, it’ll be one hell of a show."


	45. Chapter 45

No one had the guts to approach Buffy in the mood she was in, and Spike had disappeared almost as quickly. Wright had never seen them fight at all, therefore he felt like an ass for even trying to make light of things, but he likewise understood they had more pressing issues on their hands than a tiff between the temperamental vampires.

Therefore, he decided to break the ice. Buffy had busied herself at the weapon cabinet, looking through his selection like a teenager surveying the lot for the best looking car. She had a look in her eyes that inspired both pride in Wright’s collection, and a fear that he might not get some of his gear back.

"Hey, Buff—"

"Do we know who all’s coming yet?" she said absently. "We’ll need a few people to stay behind in case something goes wrong."

"Rosalie and Kelly got the fort," Wright offered. "Kelly’s doing a lot better now."

"Yeah."

"Gunn’ll be here, too. And the old man doesn’t seem too bad when push comes to shove. Not to mention, Cordelia’s wicked with a knife. And there’s—"

He bit his tongue, but the damage was done.

"Spike," Buffy supplied.

"Yeah."

"Well, that’s fine. He can do what he likes." She heaved a sigh, strapped three stakes to a utility belt he’d never seen before. Perhaps it had been Nikki’s—she had an arsenal of material somewhere that she’d never shared with him. "Giles has a crossbow you can use."

Mention of a crossbow immediately soured his mood. "No, thanks."

"It’s a good one."

"You can use it."

"Don’t like using other people’s toys, do you?"

"I don’t know them unless I made them."

She shrugged. "Better for me, anyway. I love this crossbow. It was the one I trained with when I was a teenager." She stilled a second, a harsh tremble coursing over her shoulders. "I hate fighting with him."

Wright sobered. He didn’t know where to go with that comment. "I know," he said stupidly.

He thought she might say more, but she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled deeply and plucked a dagger off his display case. "All right," she said. "You, Faith, and Willow. Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Let them know—"

Whatever words she had yet to choke out never knew life—an explosion rocketed through the lobby, trembling through the floor, shaking the walls, and scaring both the seasoned demon hunter and vamped-vampire slayer out of their skin.

"What the fuck!" Wright roared.

"Oh holy crap!" cried Buffy. "What the hell was that?"

Not two seconds later did Rosie appear from the nook where Giles had his books stored, her hair bigger than her body, standing up straight and frizzed, sparkling a bit with leftover electricity. Her hands were scorched and her face was red, and she did her best to look dignified when she realized she’d been heard.

"I can’t wait until I’m a grown-up," she said, her small voice quivering.

Then, head held high, she turned and walked solemnly out of the room.

*~*~*

The hallway leading to Zack’s prison remained the same, dreary stretch of carpet it had since the day they’d brought him here. Yet the woman she’d been then and the woman she was now were not the same person. In such little time, Buffy had gone from victim to leader, and it felt damn good being back in her old shoes.

"Not sure how wounded he is," she said as they approached the door. "I didn’t really pay attention when we came after Rosie."

"Wesley kinda made him his own personal pincushion," Faith said. "He had at least two arrows sticking outta him the last time I was here."

"I doctored those up fast, though," Willow replied. "And with the blood we left, he should be all right. He seemed okay when we were here yesterday, anyway."

When they turned to face the doorway, Zack sat in the middle of the room, looking drawn and tired. For whatever reason, Buffy hadn’t expected him to seem surprised—she had, after all, told him this was imminent, but he couldn’t hide the shock on his face anymore than he could hide the self-loathing. As though he expected, after everything, to have her promise revoked.

In all honesty, she didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. He didn’t seem to know, either.

"All right, B," Faith said, slapping her hands together. "How do we wanna do this?"

Buffy swallowed hard. "Zack?"

"Buffy," he replied, though he couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

"We’re taking you back to the Hyperion, now."

"All right."

"And we’re not locking you up," Willow added. "You’ll have your own room somewhere, ‘cause I don’t know if Kelly’s gonna wanna…with the whole…" She trailed off awkwardly. "But we got you a room all fixed up. You’ll be able to come and go as you want and…talk to anyone you want. Or not talk. Or whatever. The only thing we’re not letting you do is kill yourself."

"Right," Buffy agreed.

"So until we know that suicide is off your to-do list, I’ve mojo’d pretty much everything so you can’t approach it if it senses your intention. Like the windows downstairs. If it’s sunny and you wanna go for a stroll, you’ll be forced back."

"So house arrest with a bigger house?"

"Not exactly. We just don’t want you killing yourself. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing."

Zack snickered bitterly. "I’m sure yours is the minority opinion."

Wright shook his head and stormed forward, swallowing whatever lump he’d held in his throat. "Come on," he said gruffly, taking Zack by the arm and practically dragging him to his feet. "You’re making me look bad."

"What?"

"You’re my little bro, aren’t you? Stop whining and do what you’re told." The words were strained, as was his voice, and while no one was sure whether or not he really meant it, the sentiment went a long way. Without waiting a reply, Wright tossed Zack’s arm around his shoulders and began dragging him toward the door.

"I can walk, you know," Zack offered lamely.

Wright shrugged and tossed him off. "Then do it. I don’t wanna drag your sorry ass all the way to my pick up. Damn kid kept me up till all hours last night. Fuckin’ forgot how much they cry."

Zack smiled, rubbing his arm. It was perhaps his first genuine smile in days. "Congrats. On the baby."

"Thanks."

*~*~*

Rosie was playing a dangerous game called See How Long You Can Hold On. Thus far, the books were winning.

"Gah!" she wailed, releasing the sizzling book in her small hands. It didn’t look like she was going to be reading The Wild World of Bitchin Witches tonight, which was so lame because the title was…so lame. It shouldn’t have counted.

"You better stop that," Kelly singsonged as she walked by her scorched child. She met Rosie’s soured eyes and giggled in that Mom fashion that made her seem all the more condescending.

"You better make me," Rosie grumbled under her breath, reaching for Dazzling Dazzles and the Days That Daze Them. Half a second later, she screamed dropped the smoking title onto the floor.

"As God as my witness," she said. "I’ll never be bad again."

*~*~*

They should have known this was coming. It could never be that easy.

A dozen or so vampires circled around Wright’s truck, Angelus and Darla situated at the front of the group. Behind them were at least thirty hooded men with what appeared to be taser guns in hand, a bayonet-type stake protruding from the end.

"Well," Buffy said, swinging around her crossbow. "Guess the word got out."

Wright and Willow exchanged a glance. Faith just looked resigned.

"Well, well, well," Angelus muttered, taking a step forward. "What do we have here?"

"A long prologue?" Buffy replied. "Cut the crap."

"No, no. You see…you took something that was mine."

"Ours," Darla offered, her eyes flickering meaningfully at Zack, who glanced down just as quickly.

"So you’re here to…what? Get killed? ‘Cause I’ve had a pretty long day and if I could go without some bullshit showdown, that’d be really swell."

Faith shrugged, flexing. "Don’t know, B," she said. "I feel like I could use a good fight."

"This is really simple, Buff," Angelus said. "So simple even you can follow. You give us Zack, we’ll get out of your way."

"Hmmm. How about you get out of my way and I don’t send your ass back to Hell tonight?"

Angelus snickered, taking a long, swinging step toward her. "See, I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re kinda outnumbered here, sweetheart."

"See," Buffy replied in the same vein, "I don’t know if you noticed, but every time you’ve come to me with some grander than life plan for domination, I’ve mopped the floor with your sorry ass. And as much as I’d love to stick around and prove that fact, I think we’ll do it the easy way tonight. Will?"

She tossed a glance to the redhead, who had a big, fake smile plastered on her face.

"Exnay on the Illoway," she murmured through her teeth.

"What?" Buffy whispered.

"I’ve been trying to conjure a shield charm since we stepped outside."

"And?"

Willow turned back to the crowd, still smiling her fake smile. "Like I said. Exnay on the Illoway."

"Oh shit," Zack muttered. The welcome wagon of vamps and hooded ninja-like assassins had started moving forward. "Buffy, just let me go. Let me go with them. It’ll get you guys outta here and—"

"Like hell," Wright muttered, reaching behind him and dragging a long shot gun out of his jeans.

"What the fuck!" Willow yelped. "How did you keep that in there?"

"Years of practice."

"No, seriously, how did you—"

"How about we save the explanation for after we kill these assholes, Red?" Wright offered, tossing her a roguish grin.

"Fine," she said. "You’re not allowed to call me scary ever again."

"Zack’s not going anywhere," Wright announced loudly, popping off a shell at an advancing vampire. It blasted his head clear off his body, barely allowing him time for a scream before he crumbled to dust. "Gotta get through us, first."

"And boys, gotta tell ya," Faith said, dragging out two wicked looking blades from her back pockets. "We ain’t the type to fuck with."

*~*~*

They could have been anywhere. Sunnydale, New York, England, the fucking moon. It didn’t matter. This felt natural. This felt right.

Buffy and Zack were back to back, she with a crossbow in her arms and he with one of the blades she’d swiped from Wright’s collection in one hand and a stake in the other. Arms moved and legs kicked and they reduced the advancing army to dust with little effort. Faith and Wright had advanced with glee on the dispatch squad, Wright firing off rounds and Faith dragging her blade across the throat of anything that moved. The more they killed, the more that advanced, but it didn’t matter.

"Come on, you fuckers!" Wright screamed, firing the last shot through the eye of a masked assassin. "Is that all you got?"

He quickly drew the shotgun back and slammed it into the face of an approaching vamp, dragging it back just as swiftly and impaling its business end through the throat of another.

"How’s the firepower going, Big Red?" Faith screamed.

Willow had taken hold of one of the blades and was doing her best to chop her way toward the truck. While it had been a long while since she experienced hand-to-hand combat, she held her own better than anyone could have anticipated. "Don’t make me answer that!" she screamed back.

"Was it worth it?" Zack gritted through his teeth as he shoved a stake into an approaching vamp.

"We’ll find out, won’t we?" Buffy replied.

Angelus and Darla had disappeared in the chaos, though to where was anyone’s guess. And though the army of vamps hadn’t seemed so momentous at first, it seemed the word had gotten out that the Slayer and her friends were being hunted, and neighboring vamps wanted a piece of the action. Just as soon as the numbers began to dwindle, more would arrive, and the fray started all over again.

Zack kicked away the last on his side, driving his stake home.

"Damn, this feels good," he muttered. Then he turned around, catching Buffy with five on her tail. Four of which she handled with ease, the fifth she didn’t see.

The fifth he dove for.

"Zack!" she yelped, whirling to face him as the last of her attackers fell to dust.

"Just watching your back." He paused awkwardly. "In a trying-for-friends way."

He smiled and she attempted to return it. For a second, a blessed breath of a second, things might have felt normal.

Then Zack was on the ground, a fierce, three-hundred pound vampire at his throat.

"The fuck did you come from!" he screamed, stake fumbling from his hands.

It was over as fast as it began. A shower of dust clouded his eyes, the weight gone and free.

Spike stood over him, twirling the biggest damn axe Zack had ever seen with enviable ease. Where on earth he’d come from, Zack didn’t know. And for one wild second, he likewise couldn’t have guessed whether or not his former best friend had just saved his life for the thrill of ending it himself, or if it had meant something to him.

"Spike!" Buffy shouted, surprise and jubilation in her voice. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Took the scenic route, love. Didn’t know you were gonna start the fun without me."

"You decided to come?"

"Not yet, but let’s talk when we get home." He grinned and blew her a kiss, and in half a second, whatever had been wrong seemed right again. "Seems I got here just in time."

"Thanks," Zack coughed.

"Don’t mention it," Spike said cheerily. He tossed Zack’s fallen stake back into hands, then jumped into the heat of things with an eager roar.

His sire always had loved a good fight.

*~*~*

"This is bullshit!" Gunn spat as he paced the room once more. "And why the fuck is it taking so long? I should be out there."

"Yes," Giles sighed. "We know your sentiments, but it doesn’t change much." He took off his glasses for the hundredth time and began polishing them. "I still say we need to give them more time."

"We knew this wasn’t going to be a stroll the park," Hunter supplied. "Wolfram and Hart won’t give up that easily."

"But it’s nothing we haven’t been there and done that before?" Xander reasoned. "Right?"

"One thing I’ve learned is to never doubt the world’s evil empire," Hunter cautioned.

Anya nodded her head. "The pregnant transvestite has a point. But we do have the world’s mega witch fighting on our side."

*~*~*

"Willow!" Wright yelled above the chaos. "Get the fucking truck!"

Spike’s arrival hadn’t lessened the onslaught of demons and fighters. If anything, the battle seemed to escalate with his presence. And while the group was seriously outnumbered, they were making sure Wolfram and Hart knew they weren’t about to go quietly.

"Hell yeah!" Faith crowed as she dusted two vamps within seconds of each other. "I’m totally gonna need a good fuck tonight."

"TMI," Buffy grunted as she and Spike tag-teamed against a particularly cunning group of fighters.

"Nothing better than a good shag after a good fight," Spike replied, supplying a roundhouse kick to his target’s head.

Zack was in the midst of the battle, emotions surging as he joined his sire and Buffy once again. He knew the moment wouldn’t last, but it wouldn’t stop him from being proud to be on the good side once again.

He just wished that he wasn’t about to collapse in pain.

"Zack?" Buffy called as she fought her way over. "Are you going to make it?"

"Probably not, but can’t end a fight mid-swing."

"Wright, we need to get out of here!" the slayer warned as she grabbed Zack and threw him toward Spike.

Zack’s knees buckled as he flew into his sire. And while Spike didn’t let him fall, he made it clear he wasn’t ready to help. "Take him," Spike growled as he turned to rejoin the fight.

Wright held on to his brother as he desperately searched for the truck. "Willow!"

The roar of the engine was there before anybody could react. The screeching tires and thud took away any relief built up inside. "Bloody hell, Red!" Spike bellowed. "You fucking hit me!"

"Sorry!" she called out. "Not used to a truck."

"Whatever," Wright growled as he threw Zack in the bed and hopped up next to him.

Luckily, Willow gave Spike enough time to get on board before she slammed on the gas once more, racing in Faith’s direction. The Slayer, unlike the vampire, had a little advanced warning and was able to jump on the hood before being forced up against the front bumper.

"Turn left!" Faith cried at the witch and proceeded to fling herself into the passenger seat when gravity propelled her back. "Damn girl, you put my crazy skills to shame."

"Yeah, well…bite me," the redhead spat as she pulled a U-turn as top speed and tried to head toward the Hyperion.

"Ain’t you forgetting something?" Faith asked.

"I swear, Faith. If you say one more word, I’m going to kick your ass!" Willow cried.

"Buffy, you daft bint!" Spike snapped. "You fucking left Buffy!"

"Oops!" The truck came to screeching halt, propelling everyone forward. Faith crashed into the windshield and Wright nearly flipped over onto the hood. Before there could be a moment to readjust, the vehicle was flying back in reverse at top speed.

"You’re going to hit her!" Zack screamed. "Go forward! Go forward!"

The truck came to another halt, not before it ran over an unsuspecting vampire who had been trying to catch the vehicle. Luckily, Buffy was still a ways out and was safe from the night’s greatest danger: Willow Rosenberg.

"Fuck!" Spike growled as he slammed his head in the tailgate.

"I’m trying!" Willow said defensively as she gunned it forward once more.

Buffy worked her magic and caught up with them just as it reached full throttle, but unfortunately she didn’t make it solo. Just as she leapt and grabbed hold of the back of the truck, a determined fledgling grabbed hold of Buffy’s leg.

Spike grabbed his wife’s hands and pulled with all his might. The erratic movements of the powerless witch behind the wheel didn’t do much to help him along. "I’m going to kill you, Red!" he bellowed into the night.

"Not if we don’t all die first," Faith replied.

The platinum vampire, with the help of Wright, was able to finally yank Buffy up so that she was more than half in the truck bed. It didn’t help that the vampire was determined to join them on the ride. Zack grabbed one of the last stakes he had and flung it forward just as Spike pulled Buffy completely inside.

The two men and woman flew into the back and slammed into the cab as the fledgling turned to dust and released it’s grip. "Don’t fucking tell me darts night never paid off!" Zack crowed. "Woohoo! That fucking rocked!"

"Nice," Spike commented as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Darts night at the bar," Buffy scoffed. "Yeah, that one time move paid for all those nights the two of you would go and drink co-eds under the table and steal their money."

"Definitely," childe and sire replied in unison.

*~*~*

Sam poured himself another drink as he turned "Witchy Woman" on repeat. He had it bad and didn’t know how to come out of it.

Since he returned to Washington a certain redhead seemed to invade every sector of his mind. He thought about her during meetings, while he slept, while he ate and even in the shower.

He didn’t mind the shower thoughts as much as the others.

Sam had even called Walter, a fellow congressman, Willow, when they were discussing budget appropriations.

Yeah, he had it bad.

And it wasn’t the fact that he barely knew her that gave him the most trouble. Though, he didn’t like the idea of falling head over heels for someone that he hadn’t known for at least a full month.

No, it was the fact that their relationship was taboo because she had been given amazing and powerful abilities. The fact that her magical inclination labeled her a witch and that being a witch was considered a bad thing was what really disturbed him.

So, he found out that there was no only a world in which people could practice magic, but there were demons and vampires, too. Was it really such a terrible thing if the greater population was privy to the notion that they weren’t alone.

There were good guys and bad guys out there fighting a war to save humanity. Shouldn’t the public be aware? And shouldn’t they be able to know that there were special people out there with special abilities that were downright special?

He thought the world should know how special Willow Rosenberg truly was. The fact that she had saved the world while teaching countless other children how to be just as amazing.

Well, not quite as amazing, he acknowledged. He had a feeling that Willow was in a league of her own.

Certainly, this was an issue that shouldn’t be kept quiet. Washington operated under the assumption that the public was willfully ignorant and wrong. Sam didn’t believe that was ever the case. Well, at least not a large majority of the time.

America and the world needed to live in a reality where they knew the whole truth. The times of Salem were long gone and society had progressed far from the times of the Spanish Inquisition.

Races had learned to live together and segregation was torn down by the actions of Martin Luther King, Jr. and his followers. Equality had been fought and won for women, Latinos, homosexuals, Jews and even pagans. Where was the equality for witches and demons?

He wasn’t sure, but he was determined to find out.

For society.

For Willow.

*~*~*

"It’s taken too long!" Gunn snapped. "We need to go after them."

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "We need to go after them. It’s taken way too long."

"Great," Giles muttered. "Now we have an echo."

"Maybe they’re right," Melody said quietly. "It has been a long time now."

The eldest Watcher turned his eyes to the worried mother. "I’m sure everything is going according to plan." He gave her a soft smile. "You’ll soon realize that you live with a certain degree of nervousness if this lifestyle."

"Fuck!" Rosalie shouted from the corner.

"Watch it, young lady," Cordelia warned as she cradled baby Kelly in her arms.

"Sorry," she murmured as she didn’t look up from the phone in her hands. "I just started playing around on my new iPhone and found the stupidest game ever to fucking exist."

"You’re having issues with a game?" Hunter said with a smile as he glanced up from a copy of Bitchin Witches he had found earlier than night. "And you’re the newest protector of the world?"

"Shut the hell up!" Rosalie spat. "It’s not my fault that Doodle Jump is fucking rigged!" She cried out in exasperation. "Goddamn! I missed a rocket!"

"Give me that," the young Watcher chuckled. "Do you need me to show you how’s it done?" He tossed the book aside and walked over to her.

"Fine," she said throwing the phone in his direction.

"They could be dead for all we know," Xander said to Giles. "How do we know the aren’t all dead?"

"For the love of God," Giles groaned. "They aren’t dead. They would call if there was any trouble."

"Not if they’re dead," Anya said matter-of-factly. "They could have all been killed in a violent explosion or executed when they walked out of the motel." She ignored the horrified and angry looks thrown in her direction. "Can’t make phone calls if you’re dead."

"They aren’t dead," Kelly said calmly as she sat in the floor helping William with his alphabet.

"Bloody hell," Hunter growled as he stared intently at the phone.

"Told you so!" Rosalie returned with satisfaction. "Now gimme the damn game back."

"Hold on! Just one more round."

Giles tried his best to reason with the remainder of the room not enthralled with Doodle Jump. "If we don’t hear anything in the next few minutes, we can start planning a rescue mission, but until that point I don’t think there is any need to panic."

"Uhhh…" Rosie said as she walked up to her Papa with a book in her hands. "I just grabbed this book."

"Rose Morris," her mother called from across the room. "If you don’t stop going after those books you’re going to fry your brain cells."

"No," she said softly, her voice beginning to quiver. "I can pick it up. And open it. And…it doesn’t hurt."

"What?" Giles said as he leaned down and grabbed Bitchin Witches. "But in order to do that it would mean that Willow reversed the spell. Or that…Okay. Now we need to panic."

*~*~*

By the time the Hyperion was in view, a familiar charge surged through Willow’s veins, unlocking the energy she’d been trying to access for the better part of an hour. And while she’d never truly suspected her power was gone for good, she wouldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over her, anymore than she would deny that she narrowly missed hitting that fire hydrant as the truck soared over the sidewalk and screeched to a halt.

"Thank fucking Christ," Wright whimpered, scurrying to exit the vehicle.

Faith laughed and kicked open the passenger side door. "Damn, Red, you drive like a bat outta hell."

"Well," she said huffily, blowing at a clump of hair that had fallen in her eyes. "In case you didn’t notice, hell was following us. What else was I supposed to drive like?"

Now that they were within range of home and not being chased by the never ending Army of Darkness, the situation seemed a bit lighter. Willow had parked the truck crooked on the sidewalk, but no one seemed to give a crap now that the ground wasn’t racing beneath them. Wright had Zack’s arm slung around his shoulder again, and Spike was talking quietly with Buffy, his hands on her cheeks and his eyes wandering to make sure she hadn’t been hurt.

"Hey!" Faith screamed, her eyes on the blond couple as well. "You two realize you’re vampires, right? If you were gonna die, we’d know it by now!"

Buffy tossed her a dry glance. "Is someone still pissy that she didn’t get to kill the ninja turtle?"

"For the last time," Zack said, tearing free from Wright’s grasp if only for the dignity of walking in on his own two feet. "Lay off the ninja turtle comments. This guy wasn’t a ninja turtle. He was…a ninja who closely resembled a shelled reptile of some sort."

"He was a fucking ninja turtle," Faith replied shortly. Then she met Buffy’s eyes again. "And he was my fucking kill!"

"Well, if you’d been quicker on the uptake—"

"I don’t have vamp speed, B. Cut a girl some slack!"

"Yeah, well, I don’t have vamp or slayer speed, and I still outdid the two of you," Wright retorted. The shotgun was back in his arms, his hands stroking it lovingly. "Why hasn’t this Council of yours come up with wooden bullets?"

Faith took a step forward. "Why hasn’t your momma taught you to shut your pie hole?"

"I still wanna know how the hell you managed to smuggle that thing along for the ride without anyone knowing," Willow said, staring at the shotgun.

"It’s not cool to kill ninja turtles," Zack muttered.

"No one here went up against Goliath," Spike said loudly. "The bugger was eighteen feet tall."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Spike…"

"Eighteen bloody feet!"

"He was maybe seven foot five."

"And you all ran from him like a bunch of namby–pamby cowards."

Faith shrugged. "We saw you had the situation under control."

Zack nodded. "Didn’t want to interrupt the groove you had going."

Spike snickered and shook his head. "Lily-livered wankers, the lot of you." He paused thoughtfully. "’Cept Buffy."

"Darn-tootin’, except Buffy," Buffy said, though she was grinning.

"Are we forgetting that I lost my power?" Willow demanded, waving a hand.

"Yeah," Wright said, turning to her. "Didja find it?"

"Came back just as we arrived."

"And not a moment too soon," Faith mused. "Wright, here are some words of wisdom: don’t look at the front of your truck."

His eyes went wide, zeroing in on Willow. "What did you do to my truck?" he snapped.

"Did anyone see my awesome dustage of that last vamp?" Zack demanded. "The one that held onto Buffy?"

Spike aimed another glare in Willow’s direction. "Because someone forgot her…"

"That was pretty sweet," Faith appraised. "And Wright chopping off that one vamp’s head with his key ring…not afraid to say it, I creamed myself."

Buffy’s nose wrinkled. "Thanks for that visual, Faith. I’ll never have sex again."

"Oh, yes you will," Spike muttered, nipping at her ear. "We still got make up sex to get to before we even touch ‘thank bugger all we survived Willow’s driving’ sex."

Willow’s brows perked. "My driving? Not the onslaught of evil evilpeople?"

"Your driving was more dangerous than those bastards could ever be."

"That was pretty cool," Zack agreed, nodding at Wright. "The key ring thing…not the creaming of Faith thing."

"What can I say?" Wright said, stretching. "I’m a god."

"And Buffy using that one vamp’s high heel to stab the ninja in the eye was brill," Willow said. "And, you know, kinda nasty."

"And Spike with the axe," Wright said, looking enviously at the axe in question, which lay still in the bed of the truck. "Did you see him chop off a vamp’s head with one end and stab another in the chest at the same time? That was beautiful, man. Just beautiful."

Faith nodded at Zack. "He got to carve his initial into baldy’s chest."

Zack grinned and shrugged. "Always wanted to do it. Z and everything…" He paused and then clarified, "Like Zorro."

"Yeah, Zangy, we got it."

"And you," Buffy said to Faith, "took out three vamps all with one stake-throw. That was impressive."

"It’s hard knock life in the joint. The other prisoners learned not to fuck with me very fast."

Wright was still staring at the axe. "Are you gonna leave that in here?"

Spike shook his head and seized it with his right hand. "Beaut like this on the streets of LA?"

"Seriously, how much do you want for it?"

"Seriously, not gonna sell it, mate."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "It’s not even his to sell," she said. "Giles gave that to me for my twenty-first birthday."

"I always knew you got the cool watcher, B."

Wright turned to her. "How much do you want for it?"

"More than you can afford, Zacky." She grinned at his dejected his expression, then turned her eyes to the Hyperion. "I’m dying for a shower."

"I’m dying for a doughnut," Willow muttered, turning to stagger for the front doors. "A nice, big one with lots of icing."

"I’m dying for a drink," Wright said.

"I’m dying for a fag," Spike muttered. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out his cigs. "Thankfully, never go far without ‘em."

"I’m dying for a fuck," Faith said. "Hope Hunter ain’t too tired."

"Can we send him out on a doughnut run first?" Willow asked hopefully. "Or maybe a cheeseburger run?"

"I didn’t think cravings started this early."

"They don’t. I just want a cheeseburger. And a doughnut."

Faith shrugged as the group rounded the front bumper and began the march toward the hotel. "Eh. Why not? I could go for some sugar myself…"

"THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY TRUCK, WILLOW?"


	46. Chapter 46

"All right," Gunn said irritably. "If they ain’t back in two minutes, I’m heading out. We know the megawitch’s power supply out and we have no fucking way of knowing what the fuck’s going on out there."

"There are children present," Melody whispered furiously. "Could we not use that sort of language?"

Rosalie shrugged. "Ain’t nothing they haven’t heard before." When she received a searing look from her surrogate grandmother, she shrank slightly in her seat. "What? It’s true."

"Yes, and that could be the plan exactly," Giles argued. At the looks he received, he cleared his throat and clarified, "Not to use foul language, but to run out of here without a plan. Excuse me if panicking isn’t exactly my poison of choice. Buffy handles herself just fine in situations like these."

"Yeah." Gunn snorted. "How many times has she been killed?"

"That’s precisely not the point."

"Twice," Anya supplied. "The Master killed her when she was sixteen, and then Angelus killed her before she became a vampire."

"And didn’t you just say we need to panic?" Xander asked nervously, his eyes on Giles. "I remember you saying we need to panic."

The watcher cleared his throat. "I changed my mind."

"Ummm…" Rosalie raised her hand. "I gotta say, I’m on Gunn’s side. My dad’s out there with my unstable murdering rapist of an uncle. If they’re not back in two minutes—"

"Forty five seconds."

"—forty five seconds, I’m on the town, too."

"This could be exactly what Wolfram and Hart wants," Hunter reasoned. The iPhone sat in his lap, the Doodle-Jump screen faded from disuse. "If they isolated the others, they might be hoping to get the rest of the protection out and away from the hotel."

"Why?" Rosalie demanded. "The baby’s been born. Nothing left to sacrifice."

"Yes, well, we still have Derek Morris in the basement," Giles said.

"Rupert," Melody said softly. "It has been a long time. Why don’t we—"

"Not to mention Mr. Psycho’s wife," Xander said, mindless that he’d interrupted anyone and nodding to Kelly, who remained busy with William. "What if she’s next on their list?"

"Then they would have made their move by now," Anya said reasonably. "They don’t need to be in the same room to remove someone’s soul."

"Besides," Kelly said, glancing up. "Willow placed a lock on my soul. Mine and Zack’s."

"Loads of good that did, obviously."

"This was recently," Giles said. "We hadn’t considered it necessary until current events made it obvious it was."

"True," Anya said, "but if the small child can pick up books, wouldn’t that indicate Willow’s magic is now longer functioning?"

At last, Kelly looked up, her eyes wide and horrified. "Oh God."

"That’s it," Gunn said. "Your two minutes were up two minutes ago. Rosalie?"

"I was just getting my gun."

Hunter’s jaw dropped. "You have a gun?"

"I hardly think—"

The doors to the Hyperion blew open the next second and the would-be moving party stumbled inward. Wright and Faith were laughing loudly about something. Willow and Zack were exchanging war stories, grinning and giggling scandalously, and Spike crossed the threshold all swagger, one arm around Buffy and the other supporting the monstrous axe that rested against his shoulder. No one seemed to notice they had an audience at all. For a sliver of a second, it seemed no time had passed all.

It wasn’t until Rosalie spoke that they realized where they were.

"Oh. Holy. Fuck."

The spell was broken just like that, and the change was obvious. The spark in Zack’s eyes died almost immediately. He looked up and became one with himself again, and very aware of where he was.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Gunn demanded. "We were scared shitless!"

"There was a Bruce Campbell army out there of massive proportions," Willow said, her eyes zeroing in on Hunter. "Hey, kiddo. Wanna go on a doughnut run?"

He blinked at her. "Kiddo?"

She nodded. "Mamma’s hungry. Also, I need a cheeseburger."

"And a chilidog," Wright agreed, reaching for his wallet.

She nodded again. "And a chilidog."

"A Bruce Campbell army?" Rosalie repeated, her voice slightly dazed.

"And I lost my power," Willow said. "For like an hour."

"Just an hour?" Giles said, stepping forward. "Are you sure?"

A loud zap from the back answered for him. In seconds, Rosalie appeared, her hair standing on all ends. "It’s back," she said mournfully, then her eyes met her father’s and she beamed an enthusiastic grin. "Daddy!"

He tried for a half smile but didn’t respond. He didn’t have a chance.

"Good," Gunn said coldly, his eyes on Zack. "’Cause we were just discussing the possibility that if you short out again, our boy’s soul will blink out and we’ll be back to square fucking one."

Zack froze. "Oh Christ."

Willow’s eyes went wide. "Oh no. No, no, no, no. That couldn’t happen."

"It couldn’t?" Zack demanded. "You’re sure?"

"Really sure?" Kelly asked. She and Zack studiously avoided looking at each other.

"A thousand times sure."

"But Rosie was able to touch the books," Kelly said.

"Yeah, because a child disciplinary spell doesn’t exactly hold the same weight as a soul-anchoring spell," Willow said. "Those are a tad more complicated, but of the very permanent variety. I’m not immortal, guys. I won’t be around forever…so I made it so the really important spells—like that—aren’t tied to me. They’re tied to you."

"Oh thank God," Zack said, shoulders slumping.

"What the hell happened to your power in the first place?" Gunn demanded. "Is it always this fucking transferable?" 

"Hey," Xander snapped. "Why don’t you back the hell off?" 

"I just wanna know what we can expect," Gunn replied. "If she’s gonna be like a light switch, we might wanna reconsider putting so much stock into her so-called magic." 

Willow winced as though wounded. "There’s nothing wrong with my magic." 

"It was Wolfram and Hart," Giles offered. "They found some way to diffuse you temporarily. It must have taken a great deal of power from their end." 

"And now we’re back to this not being exactly reassuring." Gunn looked disgusted. "If she can be manipulated like that—" 

"Shut the hell up," Xander snarled. 

"Looks like mama ain’t done bustin’ caps." Faith smacked her hands together, her brows arching. "You about done, junior?" 

"He’s just saying what you all can’t," Rosalie said loudly. Then she looked at Faith. "And since when were you two so chummy?" 

The raven-haired slayer shrugged. "Pick my battles at will. And Red’s cool when she’s not trying to kill me." 

Willow shook her head, her hands coming up. "Look, guys…" She frowned and glanced at Faith. "When did I try to kill you?" 

"There was that one time on the SunnyD campus." 

"After you came out of the coma? I believe I was just going to hit you with my backpack, but hey." She shrugged and turned back to the group. "Look, my powers aren’t transferrable and they can’t be turned off easily, and definitely not permanently. Really, does anyone here think that Albus Dumbledore would allow for anything less than utmost security where I’m concerned?" 

"You tell us," Gunn replied. "You’re the one whose powers shut off." 

"And don’t you think that if they could do that permanently, they would?" Willow snickered. "Look, Giles is right. If they did something to me, then it was temporary and it likely took a hellava lot of energy. And now that I know it’s possible, I’ll make sure it never happens again." 

"How can you make sure?" 

Energy crackled at her fingertips. "Want a demonstration?" 

"All right," Wright said loudly, commanding everyone’s attention. "That’s enough. We’ve all seen Willow do things that should, quite frankly, make us cry ourselves to sleep at night. We don’t need any proof. We don’t need anything." 

Gunn took a step forward. "So says you." 

"Yes, Gunn, so says me. Should we go over again who’s in charge here?" 

"So we’re supposed to just sit down and shut up when you make bullshit calls like that?" 

"I already have one of the most enhanced inner security systems," Willow said. "Dumbledore and I perfected it before he died. We knew I’d be a high class target, so we wanted to make damn sure I was hard to kill. I can use the same basic formula and some of Snape’s potion guidelines to make sure the power offage never happens again." 

"I don’t see how you’re not concerned," Gunn snapped. "Anything coulda happened!" 

"Well, anything didn’t happen," Wright snapped. He looked about three seconds from tearing someone’s head off, and it wasn’t difficult to guess who the first volunteer would be.

"And I’m not concerned because it wasn’t entirely unforeseeable. I didn’t think they’d try it, but they did." Willow cocked her head. "What you should ask is what I’m going to do to them now that they fucked with me."

"In the meantime, we gotta worry with getting everything we thought was under control back under control," Gunn hissed. "The hotel security, the soul issue—"

"I already told you," Willow said through her teeth. "The souls are anchored. Nothing can remove them."

"—Wes, whose method doesn’t seem so insane now."

At the mention of Wesley, Faith’s eyes went wide. So did Wright’s.

"Aw, fuck."

They both tore toward the staircase before anyone could get another word out.

"He hasn’t been down!" Gunn shouted. "I’m just sayin’, he could’ve—"

"Zack?"

The voice was so small it barely made a sound, yet everyone seemed to hear it all the same. Melody Morris had finally snapped out the stupor she’d drowned in the second she’d seen her son walk through the door. And just like that, everything changed.

For his part, Zack looked like he’d rather be about anywhere else, up to and including the ninth layer of hell than where he was now. But hearing his mother’s voice had an obvious affect. His eyes went wide and his body began to tremble.

Kelly swallowed hard and looked away, and that seemed all Rosie could stand before she broke her unexpected rigidity. In half a blink, she screamed her joy and tore the floor apart with eager, childish steps, wrapping herself around her father’s leg.

"Daddy!"

"Oh, Zack," Melody gasped. Then she joined Rosie, sobbing eagerly and engulfing him in a tight embrace. "Oh, Zack…"

"Mom…"

Kelly swallowed hard and met Buffy’s stoic eyes.

This would be anything but easy.

*~*~*

Faith had no idea why she’d rushed so quickly upstairs. Her legs ached and her muscles whined, and though she’d known exactly what to expect, she’d raced here, anyway. She’d raced to see an empty bedroom and an open window.

God, she hated herself for being so disappointed. For expecting something she knew she’d never get. It wasn’t as though Wesley had opened up to her at all over these last few days. She’d sit and talk, often and at length about nothing at all, and occasionally he’d toss in a word to make it seem like he gave a righteous fuck. But he hadn’t cared. Not at all. He’d just pacified her attempts to calm his inner beast. He’d given her the stupid idea that he wanted help.

He hadn’t wanted anything except a way out.

With a deep sigh, Faith turned to the wall and shoved her fist through plaster. "Godfuckingdammit."

Wright sighed. "You can say that again."

"Godfuckingdammit."

He shook his head. "He wasn’t going to listen no matter what we did."

"Oh, I dunno," she replied. "I had some tactics I hadn’t tried."

"I just wanted to spare him this part."

"I just want to break his fucking neck."

Wright offered a small grin. "One thing at a time, okay?"

*~*~*

"Uh oh."

"Dammit."

"What?"

Josh sighed and turned over, clutching his pillow tighter. "It’s never good when you say that."

Donna tore her eyes away from her cell phone long enough to cast her man a dubious glance. Not that he saw it; his eyes were soundly shut. "I thought it was never good when anyone said it."

"It’s doubly bad for you."

"Why?"

"’Cause." Josh’s eyes pried open reluctantly. "What’s uh oh now? I thought we agreed to hit the snooze button."

"I got a text message."

"A text message?"

"It’s a brief message you send and receive from your cellular device."

"I know what a text message is, Donna."

"Your tone didn’t indicate as much." She turned back to her phone. "It’s from Sam."

"Sam?"

"Sam is your—"

Josh grunted and sat up abruptly. "I know who Sam is. What does it say?"

"The text message?"

"No, the last few lines of Number Nine. Yes, the text message!"

She had to read through it a few times before it made sense. "It says, ‘Bin tinkn. Wan 2 psas leguslashun 4 Wilzo.’" Donna snickered. "I think I just got drunk-texted for the first time."

"Legislation?"

"For Wilzo," she agreed.

"Oh God." Josh rubbed his eyes. "It’s started."

*~*~*

When Faith and Wright rejoined the others in the foyer, the herd had thinned considerably.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Wright demanded.

"Spike and Buffy went to bed," Willow said without looking up. She and those left standing were crowded around the coffee table, staring at a map of Los Angeles. "Kelly took William upstairs and I think Rosie’s staying in Zack’s room tonight."

"Where’s Zack’s room?" Faith asked.

Willow waved. "Somewhere."

"And Gunn?"

"Gone."

"Melody went to sleep as well," Giles said.

"Willow’s doing a spell," Anya said. "To see where Wesley went."

"We kinda guessed he was gone," Rosalie said. "Gunn swore he wasn’t, but we knew he’d split the second he got a chance."

"Almost done," Willow said, meeting Xander’s eyes. "Do you have the newt eyes?"

"From the storage closet downstairs." He nodded. "Say…did you guys know there’s a middle-aged man in desperate need of a shower locked up in a cage down there?"

Rosalie nodded. "That’s granddad."

"Oh. That makes sense." Xander turned to Giles. "All my closest relatives are kept in my parents’ basement."

"Someone should go dump a bucket of water on him," Rosalie mused.

"Right," Hunter agreed. "Because that worked so well on me."

"Shut up," Willow snapped.

"What did I do?"

"You didn’t get my doughnut."

"Or my chili-dog," Wright said. "I forgot."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Excuse me for not wanting to be everyone’s bitch."

"Hey," Xander said. "Being a bitch is a time-honored tradition. Who wants what? I’ll make a run."

Willow met her friend’s eyes. "I love you."

"I do, too," Wright agreed.

"Can I put in an order for jellies?" Giles asked hopefully.

"Why not? I’m feeling more and more at home."

"I need something hard," Faith muttered. Then, intently, she marched toward Hunter—toward, but bypassed him in favor of the kitchen nook. In the fridge, she uncovered a bottle of JD, popped it, and downed half the bottle within thirty seconds.

"Ew," Xander said. "No chaser?"

Faith pried her lips off the bottle’s neck with difficulty. "Don’t need a chaser, boy. I actually got balls." She shoved the liquor back into the fridge. "All I need now is something soft." Her eyes landed on Hunter. "You coming?"

"With difficulty. I don’t like hearing anyone I slept with has male genitalia."

Faith smirked. "You’re coming."

"And here – we – go." Willow blew a handful of pink-powdered dust over the map. For a long second, nothing happened; the dust settled and scattered. Then, from nowhere, a spark came to life, growing, illuminating, and wandering between the lines before centering on a choice corner of the city. "There’s our guy."

"Not Wolfram and Hart," Giles said, frowning.

"No," Wright said softly. "But almost as bad."

Hunter’s eyes went wide. "And that’s my cue. Faith?"

She laughed. "Boy, I tell you," she said, "I’m gonna ride you hard."

"You always do."

*~*~*

Lilah Morgan sighed and tossed her keys back in her purse.

Another disastrous night. The only consolation worth taking was the look on Gavin’s face. His failure to secure Zack was an invaluable card in her house of tricks. The Senior Partners weren’t pleased, and when the Senior Partners weren’t pleased with someone, it was almost always beneficial to everyone else.

And since Gavin was her largest competitor within Special Projects, that made his loss her gain…just as long as she delivered.

She just needed a win. One. An ace in the hole.

Lilah stifled a yawn as she pushed open her apartment door. Darkness greeted her, and that was the way she liked it. She never advertised when she was or wasn’t home; the more she kept people guessing, the better. It’d make arranging a choice car accident to or from work all the more difficult, or whatever else her rivals were prone to do to thin out the competition.

Tonight, though, she wanted to read a bit before bed, and that meant turning on a light.

The lamp on her mantle was the closest.

She barely had time to reach for it.

"Hello, Lilah."

Now, Lilah Morgan wasn’t a skittish woman by any stretch of the imagination, but an unannounced houseguest, especially one who waited in the dark while she fumbled for a light switch, was enough to startle anyone. She gasped and turned around, reaching instinctively for the Colt .45 she kept in her purse.

He was one step ahead of her.

"Now, now," Wesley said, seizing her wrist. "That won’t be necessary."

"How did you get in here?" she snapped, trying fruitlessly to free her wrist.

"The front door." He smiled. "I’m not MacGyver, but picking locks isn’t exactly difficult."

"How reassuring."

"You’re fortunate I’m not here as an enemy."

Her brows arched. "You’re not?"

"Oh no. Haven’t you heard?" He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "I’ve come to a…parting of the ways with my former colleagues. They asked me to do the unthinkable."

"Which was?"

"Betray the memory of the woman I love. Which brings me here. Please…" He released her, seemingly confident she wouldn’t struggle, and waved to one of her antique chairs. "Sit."

Oddly, the fact that a member of the White Hat patrol, not to mention a founder and owner of Wright & Pryce Investigations, was in her apartment, offering her a seat on her very own furniture, was not the strangest thing that had happened to her today. As it was, Lilah found herself too intrigued to brush him off. Almost unwittingly, she followed his instructions.

"I do believe, Ms. Morgan," he said, "that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


	47. Chapter 47

Zack wasn’t nearly as excited as he expected to be back inside the Hyperion. Holding his mother and Rosie had been a weight off his shoulders, as well as the silent bond forged between him and his new half-brother.

Other aspects hurt like a stake to the heart. The way Spike and Buffy flinched whenever they made eye contact. The way many others couldn’t even look him in the eye. His heart broke when he saw Kelly once again. He wanted to run over and cry into her arms, but knew that wasn’t an option anymore.

With a deep sigh, he shut off the shower and reached for a clean towel. The room he was placed in had been stocked with all of his old clothes and toiletries. It would have been a pleasant surprise had it not been for how much they reminded him of his wife.

Hurrying, he got dressed in some pajama pants and a tee-shirt. Rosie had run back to her room to change, but insisted on staying the night with her daddy.

There was a light knock at the door, and Zack was surprised that his daughter hadn’t arrived alone. Melody Morris was standing there with a mug of blood in her hand and a plate full of cookies. "I thought I’d bring you two a snack before I headed off to bed."

"Thanks, Mom," Zack said shyly as he took the proffered items. "You really didn’t have to."

"I know, honey. I just wish everybody would understand that this situation was never your fault. You never asked Wolfram & Hart for any of this to happen."

"Well," Zack stated, try his best to give her a smile. "If the world was all as insightful as our mothers, than we wouldn’t have any problems to deal with."

"You don’t have to be a mother to understand that they’re putting the blame on you because they can’t punish that evil law firm."

"They’re punishing me because I did it."

"Oh, Zack," she said shaking her head. "Who can say how anyone would react without a soul. I could be a murderous cat-eating monster."

"Nana!’ Rosie giggled. "Why would you eat cats?"

"I’d be soulless, so who knows what I’d do."

"Is imagining my mom as a cat-eating monster supposed to make me feel better?" Zack asked with furrowed brows.

Melody blushed. "Maybe. I’m just saying that they shouldn’t put the blame on you. They should be blaming Wolfram & Hart. Or your father. They haven’t put him to nearly as much pain and suffering as they have done to you."

"What do you mean?" he asked lowly.

His mother shrugged. "So they locked him up and knocked him around a bit, but that’s nothing compared to torturing you and nearly killing you." She shook her head. "I kinda wish they would just go ahead and kill him." She gave a sheepish look to her granddaughter. "I’m so sorry to say that in front of you, Rosie dear."

The little girl gave her a quizzical glance. "He tried to kill everybody and made my dad go evil. Yeah, I kinda wish they would just go ahead and kill him, too."

"I can’t even go down there and look at him. I’ve started sending Rupert down there once a day with food and water."

Darkness briefly flashed before his eyes. "Where is he?"

"The basement," Rosie and Melody responded in unison.

Melody continued. "They brought him here before they even got your soul back. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. I lost your father a long time ago. I just wish I could take away all the pain he’s caused you and everyone else."

"Oh, Mom," Zack sighed. "I wish I could change it all, too. Take away all the pain I’ve caused you and everyone else."

Melody gave him a scolding look that made him wince and reminded him of when he was a child. "Zackary, are you not listening to me? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. This entire situation was your father’s fault. You didn’t kill anyone. It was Derek. And the sooner you get that through that pretty think head of yours, the sooner we can mourn and move on."

"Geez, Mom," Zack pouted. "Thanks for chewing me out in front of my girl."

Rosie came over and patted his arm. "It’s okay. I agree with Nana. It wasn’t your fault. You were used."

Zack frowned and shook his head. "Well, thank you ladies for doing your best to ease my guilty conscious. I appreciate the effort."

"Did it work?" Rosie asked hopefully.

"Not really, Pigtails, but thanks," he said picking her up to give her a giant hug and kiss on the cheek. He tried desperately to ignore the fact that his ribs were cracked and he still had moderate internal bleeding. Skele-Grow couldn’t work miracles.

"Well," Melody said with a warm smile. "It’s getting pretty late and I think both of you need to get some rest."

"You do realize I’m a creature of the night, now?" Zack asked.

"And you do realize I’m your mother, so you better do what I say, right?" Melody countered.

"Yes, ma’am."

Melody cast her eyes downward to Rosie. "Keep an eye on him. He always causes trouble when he doesn’t listen to his Mommy."

The little blonde gave a salute. "Will do."

*~*~*

"It’s the middle of the freaking night," Donna growled as they crawled out of the cab and headed up to Sam’s penthouse.

"A crisis knows no sleep."

"And by crisis you mean a drunken Sam?"

"Do you realize what could happen if he sends a drunk text to a reporter? Or an oppositional congressman? Or a random stranger?"

"If he did, nobody would understand him enough to translate the message."

"But if they happened to be able to read drunken frat boy, this whole campaign could be brought to it’s knees before we even starting stumping.

"So, in this delusional midnight scenario, Sam is upstairs sending texts to oppositional congressmen who are sleeping with random strange reporters who understand drunken frat boy texts?"

"No," Josh said. "Because that would just be silly."

"Yeah," she countered sardonically. "Because this is the sane approach."

As they approached the apartment, the music began to travel through the walls. Josh was grateful he had an extra key, because he doubted the man on the other side would ever be able to hear the knocking.

"Are you serious?" The curly hair man asked when they reached the door.

Donna had to smile. It was typical Sam. Santana’s "Black Magic Woman" was coming over the speakers loud and clear. "Sam has class."

Josh shook his head. "Sam’s a shmuck."

"I think it’s sweet."

"I think you’re mental."

"And yet, you brought us here at three in the morning."

"Shut up," he pouted as he turned the key and opened the door.

The couple didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Sam had every light in the house on as he danced around the room in his boxers.

Dance might be too strong of a word.

He was prancing around the living room with a glass of whiskey in his hand, swaying back and forth to the beat. "Yes, I got a Black Magic Woman," he sang. "She's got me so blind I can't see, but she's a Black Magic Woman and she's trying to make a devil out of me."

"Oh. My. God." Donna was slack jawed as she took it all in.

"Told you so."

"You did not tell me this," Donna countered.

Sam continued on oblivious of his audience. "You got your spell on me, baby. You got your spell on me, baby." He swayed so much that whiskey tipped onto the floor. He caught it a little too late and took a big swig to finish off the glass. "Yes, you got your spell on me, baby. Turnin' my heart into stone" He twirled in a circle stumbled onto the coffee table. "I need you so bad. Magic Woman I can't leave you alone." 

"I said crisis, didn’t I?" Josh spat.

Sam looked up when the music finally ended and Josh rang out in the quiet air. "Oh, hey!" The brunette man called as he fought to stand up and hoist his glass in the air. "I love me some whisky!"

Josh and Donna looked long and hard at one another. "Fine," she said at last. "This could potentially become a crisis."

"Sam," Josh said pulling himself away from Donna’s eyes. "We need to talk."

"You betcha," Sam replied. "I’ve been drinking."

"We see that," the other man dryly retorted.

"Yeah, well while I was thinking a decided that this country is a bitch."

"Let’s try not to drop that one at the stump speeches, ‘kay? That’s not really something I can put on a bumper sticker or drop on the Sunday shows."

Donna snickered. "America’s a bitch. Vote for Seaborn."

"You’re not helping," Josh muttered.

"It’s true," Sam said comically loud. "America is a hypocritical bitch."

"Can we tone it down a wee bit?" Josh said in a harsh whisper.

"Drink about it," Sam slurred as he walked over to fill his glass of Jack Daniels and mess with the CD player. As he turned to walk back over to his friends, The Eagles "Witchy Woman" began to play.

"I’m noticing a theme tonight," Donna mused.

"Me too," Josh snapped.

"Willow-themed music?"

"No, you making this difficult for me."

"Teaches you a lesson for bringing me out in three in the morning." She shook her head and continued as he opened his mouth. "And Sam getting drunk is not a crisis."

"Raven hair and ruby lips; sparks fly from her finger tips." Sam was back to prance and sway dance. "Echoed voices in the night; she’s a restless spirit on an endless flight."

"We have got to stop this," Josh cried over the music.

Sam showed no signs of stopping. "Wooo hooo witchy woman, see how high she flies.  
Woo hoo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye."

Donna took charge and walked over to the CD player and shut it off. Sometimes she wondered how Joshua Lyman had made it this far in life.

"Hey!" Sam snapped. "I was dancing to that!"

"Yeah," Donna said with a nod. "We might be able to call it that."

"Sam," Josh sighed. "What is going on?"

"I can’t get her off my mind," he said stumbling over to the sofa. When he flopped down, he splashed half his drink down his chest. "At first I thought it was a crush, but now I know it’s something more."

"I swear to God," Josh snarled. "If you tell me you love this woman, I am going to rip your heart out and shove it up your ass."

"Josh?" Donna questioned.

"He can’t do this to me!" the curly haired man whined.

"How dare he have a personal life with feelings and emotions."

"Donna, you aren’t helping."

Sam shook his head. "We need to change the world."

Josh sighed with relief and gave his best friend a smile. "Exactly! That’s what we’re going to do when we get you elected."

"I want to sponsor a bill creating an equal rights amendment for all witches and demons in the United States."

Josh’s eyes looked like they might fall out of his head. "What the fuck?"

"Exactly," Sam said with a grin. "What the fuck have we been doing, America? Witches are wicked good protectors of everything and they have to hide. Willow shouldn’t have to hide anymore."

"Is he drunk?" Josh asked, turning to Donna in horror. "Or did he fall down and hurt his head?"

*~*~*

He waited until she was asleep. It took a full two hours from the time his mother left until he was confident Rosie wouldn’t arise when he moved from the bed. Once out the door, it didn’t take him long to trace the foul stench coming from the basement.

The first step down the staircase was enough to jar Derek Morris from whatever sleep there was to be had. He moved himself to the far corner of the cell until he saw the guest of honor. "Thank God," Derek sighed as he pulled himself up off the floor and rushed to the cell door. "Tell me you’ve killed them! Did you get that baby? I sure hope so!"

Zack stood there cold and silent as Derek rambled on. "I’m not sure where the damn keys are. You better check that Wright. His place so they might be on him. Is W&H mad? I had no idea they were going to make it this hard. Fucking pansies. Better off without them. Now we can get back to work, right boy?" Zack was steely faced and unresponsive. "Zack? You all right, son?"

The action certainly caught Derek by surprise and a brief flash of shock befell Zack as he grabbed Derek’s shirt collar and slammed him into the prison bars. "First thing first, I’m no fucking son of yours." The man began choking for air, but Zack showed no sign of letting him go. "Second of all, I’m not your bitch any more. Thanks to Willow, you’ll never pull that trick again, Dad."

The door to upstairs came open, but Zack didn’t bother to look up. He recognized the scent immediately. "Having a party?" Wright drawled.

"Family reunion," Zack said darkly as he threw Derek back against the back wall, causing him to crash and fall. "Care to join?"

"Gee, thanks," Wright said sarcastically. "Always wanted one of these when I was growing up."

Derek’s voice was hoarse as he spoke. His eyes focused on the younger of the boys. "You have no idea what you’re about to throw away, Zackary."

"I have a better idea than you ever will, you son of a bitch."

"Was she really a son of a bitch?" Wright asked. "I mean, I never got to meet grandma, ya know."

"She smelled kinda funny," Zack pondered. "But I wouldn’t call her a bitch. Just a little stuffy. Made good meatloaf."

"I love meatloaf," Wright added.

"Yeah, it rocked my socks off." Zack paused. "But what were we talking about?"

"I think how we should kill our father."

Zack snapped his fingers. "Oh, that’s right."

Derek emitted a low growl. "I was never your father." His gaze was focused on Wright. "If it was up to me, you would have never been born."

"Lucky for the rest of us, not much in this world has been ever up to you," Wright countered.

"Enough," Zack said simply. "You’ve done enough."

"Zack," Derek pleaded as he saw the fire in the vampire’s eyes. "Don’t you understand? I did all of this for you!"

The laughter that emitted from Zack’s lips sent shivers down both human’s spine. "Oh geez, Pop. Thanks ever so much from retracting my soul and making me murder my family and friends. It’s just what I always wanted."

"No, Zack." Derek was shaking as he slowly pulled himself up off the floor. "That was the last resort. It was never supposed to end like this."

"Yeah," Wright said sardonically. "It all would have been perfect if he could have just killed me from the start. Then you guys coulda had a home of fucking goddamn happiness."

"Great plan," Zack spat sarcastically at Derek. "Too bad that one didn’t work."

"Yeah," Wright snapped. "Neither did your little fucking plans of attempting to kill my daughters and brutally slaying my first fucking wife and only son." Wright walked up and rattled the bars. "Shucks, Dad. Thanks for trying."

"So what was I? The backup plan?" Zack asked, pacing back and forth across the limited space. "Decided that when Plan A failed, you’d recreate it with Plan B?"

"Zack, you were the son I _wanted_. I loved your mother!"

"Lies!" Zack spat, kicking the ground and sending a rusty piece of pipe clattering into the cell bars. "You’ve never loved anything but yourself, you greedy bastard!"

"No Zack!" Derek pleaded. "I tried to save you even after you hooked up with that ridiculous gang of vampire-lovers."

"One question," Wright asked quietly. "Why did you go and name him Zack, too? I mean, if I was nothing to you, why fucking recycle my name?"

Derek shrugged. "I liked it. I never figured you’d make it to be named, but she asked me what I liked for a boy and I told her Zackary. Really burned me when I found out you survived. Not only did I have to wait for you to procreate, but I had to deal with being a copy-cat."

"Man," Zack growled. "That must have sucked. It’s almost finding out that your father tried to kill your half-brother and then decided to come after your daughter and son."

"I would have never had I known that he was going to make another kid. I figured Darla had fucked things up for good."

"You cock-sucking mother fucker!" Wright screamed. "You fucking killed her and never gave a damn!"

"Why would I?"

Zack bent down and picked up the discarded piece of pipe. Twirling it in his hands, it was obvious his self-control was dissolving quickly. "Is that your answer to me, too? Because of you I’ve tortured, killed and hurt every single person in my life. Was that the point? Drag me down into your own personal hell? Make me want to die so bad, that following you was a good alternative? I nearly killed my son, but unlike you I give a damn. It kills me inside!"

"You killed Amber and my son," Wright said once more.

Zack was shaking the pipe wildly in hand. "You made me murder Fred, Nikki, Faith and countless innocents all for your stupid gain."

"What do you have to say, Derek?"

Derek looked them dead in the eye. "You’ll never get it. This is what it takes to be a man. It’s about more than blood and I don’t regret spilling one drop."

Neither realized exactly what transpired in that fraction of a second until it was too late to turn back. Zack never remembered throwing the pipe, but in a blink of an eye it had left his hand was sticking out of Derek Morris’ chest. Before Wright or Zack could do so much as gasp, the beating of the elder man’s heart stilled and his two sons were left to stare at the corpse of the one who had spawned their existence.

"Is he dead?" Wright asked at last. Both men seemed unable to take their eyes away from the pipe sunk deep inside bleeding flesh.

"His heart stopped about two minutes ago," Zack stoically. 

They stared in silence for several more minutes until the door upstairs creaked and opened. It was almost comical the way the two men reacted as they spun around and pressed their backs against the prison bars in a pathetic attempt to hide the latest Hyperion murder.

"This isn’t what it looks like," Zack said automatically.

"Really?" Spike teased. ""Cuz it looks like he’s dead."

"Oh," Wright said slowly. "Then it’s exactly what it looks like."

The platinum vampire made his way down the remainder of the stairs. "So, what happened?"

"He did it," Wright said pointing a finger to Zack.

"It was an accident," Zack lamely retorted.

"So you weren’t going to kill the bastard?" Spike as skeptically.

"Not at that moment, per se. My hand sorta slipped."

"Not sure the jury’ll buy that defense."

Wright shook his head. "All I know is I’m running out of options for body disposal around here."

"Where you plan on burying him?" Spike asked as his eyes turned to take in the remainder of Derek Morris’s existence.

The demon hunter shrugged. "Anywhere but the garden."

When there was nothing more said, Zack asked, "What’s special about the garden?"

Wright seemed to temporarily lose his speech. "Well…It’s because…"

Spike supplied the answer. "Where we buried Fred."

"Oh," Zack said in a small voice as he turned his gaze to his feet. "Not the garden then."

Wright looked to the elder vampire. "Do you think Willow could pull one more trick out of the bag?"

"Might as well go and ask." With that, Spike turned and began ascending the stairs. Wright was following a couple steps behind.

Zack turned to look one last time at the man he had tried so desperately to emulate for the majority of his life. He had spent the entirety of his prior existence seeking to earn the love and respect of Derek Morris.

It took losing himself to discover that he had been better than his father since the day he was born.

"Hey," Spike called. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Zack said slowly as he turned around. He had officially closed the book on a past full of disillusion and disappointment. "Right behind you."

*~*~*

They hadn’t been able to locate Willow, but Wright wasn’t in the mood to wait around for a solution. Ultimately, the most appropriate place for Derek Morris seemed near the garbage, and nearest that was the place where they stored all the excess trash they couldn’t toss out every week. Things like demon heads, guts, broken weapons, defective mystical devices, and so forth. Every six weeks or so, Wright would commission Gunn or Nikki to load it into the truck and take it out of the city limits to burn…but since Zack’s reign of terror, the pile had grown rather large. And Nikki hadn’t been around to pester him about sanitation. 

"Damn," Wright said, wincing and dumping his would-be father’s body onto the ground. "It reeks back here." 

"Not such a posh place, after all, Zangy?" Spike retorted, lighting a cigarette. 

"If Gunn’s still here, I’ll have him load it up." 

Zack expelled a deep breath. "You think Gunn left for good?" 

Wright shrugged. "I really have no fucking clue, and right now, I couldn’t give a shit." 

Spike’s brows perked. "That a fact? Thought you two were chummy." 

Wright looked up slowly. "Before your sorry face showed up, we were all chummy. Takes a real fucking crisis to find out who your friends are." He sighed. "I’ll go grab some shovels." 

He disappeared inside without another thought, leaving Spike and Zack alone. 

It was something one couldn’t explain without experiencing, but even then, it did the situation little justice. Spike didn’t have any experience in how to approach someone who had once been a friend and was now something else. He had no idea how to proceed. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to proceed. 

Yet something had changed in the last few hours. His argument with Buffy had done a number on him. While the sight of his former friend still stirred in him a rage unlike any other, he recognized something he should have known from the beginning. Something he hated, because it meant going against his nature. Something he needed, because he missed his friend. 

Something that was going to be bloody hard to do, but worth it. 

Preservation of the line came above all else. He couldn’t live with the way things were now. He wasn’t prepared to go an eternity knowing he made a mistake based on emotion rather than intellect; fuck knew he’d done that enough. Eternity was a long sodding time to live with regret, and if there was anything the last few years had taught him, regret was the unbeatable bitch. It always had the upper hand. 

He’d lived over a century without looking back at what he’d left behind. Living with Buffy had changed that; at times, he didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse. But he loved her more than anything in this world or any other, and that sort of love was deserving of an attempt to make right the deepest wrong any had ever suffered. 

"Why did you come?" 

Spike dragged his eyes off the pavement, doing his best not to sniff the blood-thickened air. He didn’t think it’d make for a good ice-breaker if he started guzzling Derek Morris’s blood due to his growling stomach. 

He didn’t answer immediately, rather taking a long drag of his cigarette. "What do you mean?" 

"You weren’t there when Buffy and Company came to get me," Zack said, looking anywhere but at him. "And she was definitely surprised when you showed up." 

He nodded. "Right." 

"And you—" 

"Can’t imagine why I wouldn’t wanna welcome you back with open arms, can you?" 

"That’s not…Spike, I know I don’t deserve to be here. No matter what my mom tells me or whatever Buffy said to convince everyone…I know what I deserve, and it’s gonna follow me for a long time." 

His jaw tightened. "Good." 

"And I know I’m risking all my parts by talking, but—" 

"I came because…fuck if I know, Zangy. Seemed like the right idea at the time." He tossed his cigarette butt to the ground, quashing it beneath his boot. "I was all right, you know? I was all ready for it. Strangle your kid, fine. Kill Nikki? No one liked the bitch, anyway. Snap Fred’s neck? Didn’t know her well, and yeah, she was a nice bird, but I knew it wasn’t you steering. I know better than anyone, don’t I? But what you did to her…to Buffy…" 

Zack swallowed hard and held up his hands. "Don’t—" 

"What? Talk about it?" 

"I had to live it." 

Spike’s nostrils flared. "Yeah. So did I. Funny thing is, you didn’t seem to mind so much at the time." 

"Spike—" 

"And yeah, I know why. I bloody well know why, Zangy. To soul or not to soul, and all that rubbish. I know it wasn’t you steering, but I can’t stop seeing it. And it takes everything I bloody have not to rip you to shreds." He shook his head hard. "I don’t know if that’s the claim or not. Truth be told, I think I’d want you dead regardless. Any other man, Zack, and you’d be a memory by now." 

Silence broke. Neither said anything for a long minute, though from the look on his former friend’s face, Spike sensed the use of his given name hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

"I’m trying here," Spike said softly. "Really trying. You were a fucking good friend, and I know that’s worth saving…but I can’t say it’ll be easy, because every time I see you, smell you, hear your bloody name, I want to make you suffer in ways you haven’t dreamt. The walls? The beatings? Child’s play compared to what I want to do—what my demon demands I do…and I’m resisting, Zangy, I really am." 

"I don’t know how." 

He growled. "Don’t get all—" 

"No, I’m not doing the pity-party thing. I hate myself more than you ever could." 

"Not sure that’s possible." 

"Believe me," Zack said. "I just don’t understand how you can do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Not kill me. You just said it yourself—you’re feeling your demon. I didn’t know what that meant until…" He trailed off and sighed. "I don’t know how to not feel it now. It’s like it was there but I didn’t realize it, and now I feel it all the time. But having a soul makes it easy for me now, and I know if I lost my soul again, that part of me wouldn’t be anywhere near controlled." 

"Not seeing your point." 

"You don’t have what I have." 

Spike rolled his eyes. "If you become one of those soul-obsessed buggers, Zangy, I swear, I will kill you. I don’t need it." 

"That’s what I’m saying! You don’t need it. Why don’t you need it? Why wasn’t I able to control it when mine left the building?" Zack broke away, a long breath shuddering through his body. "I think I hate you for that. For not needing what the rest of us do. You stand there and you don’t need a soul to not rip out my kids’ throats. They’re my kids. Why are you the moral compass—"

"It’s not easy."

"But you do it!"

"Yeah," Spike replied hotly. "Do you have the foggiest idea how long it took me to rein it in? I worked at it. I made the change. The man in you is what loves those kiddies. What pines for Kelly. The man’s all you know. I was a monster. I slashed my way through history, and I did it with a smile. It wasn’t the man who fell in love with Buffy—it was me. The full fucking demon. That part of me loves her, too." 

"Why doesn’t my demon—" 

"Because that’s not the way it works." 

"It works for you!" 

"I’m different. I always softer, see. Not demon enough for Angelus and family. Not nasty enough for Dru. A part of nancy boy William lingered. He’s here." He placed a hand over his chest. "Always made me less of a demon in their eyes. I didn’t realize it was that way until I met Buffy. And even then—even being different—it took more than just a different attitude to change. I had to fight for it. I had to want it." 

"I want that part of me to want it, too." 

Spike shook his head. "It never will." 

"Why?" 

"Because that’s the way it is." 

Zack’s shoulders slumped. "Lame," he said.

"You want a chance? You wanna go through a hundred and fifty years killing and pillaging everything in sodding sight just so you can learn to discipline yourself? Fine." Spike’s eyes burned. "You make it sound like I crawled outta my grave and pledged myself to the greater good. I didn’t just up and decide to be good. I thought it was that easy once, but I still struggle with it. Every bloody day. If you think I don’t, then either you’re an idiot or I’m well overdo for my Oscar."

"Well, maybe you should be a contender, then. I don’t see it."

Spike gestured emphatically. "When we stepped out here, it was all I could do to keep from munching on dear ole daddy. Don’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind, too."

Zack’s jaw fell somewhat slack at that. "Oh. Well. It crossed my mind, but it kinda erred on the side of gross. One being it’s, you know, feeding on a dead body. Second being he’s my father. Third being…he’s my father."

Spike nodded. "Right. And I stepped out wanting a taste. Have to control it, don’t I? To me, he’s a dead body and that blood’s going to waste. Not gonna kill him any more to have his blood drained, is it? But it’s wrong. Bugger if I know why, but it’s wrong."

Zack seemed to ponder this for a minute before making a face. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Spike agreed. "It’s rot like that. Every day has its little battles. Little times through the day when the wrong move could make you lose the lot of it. Took me a long, long time to get to a place where I knew up from down where that was concerned. It’s not easy."

"But you are able to control it."

"Yeah. And that’s just the way it is. That’s the way it’ll always be. It’s the only way I can survive." Spike sighed and shook his head, turning his eyes downward. "You and me? We’re not okay."

Zack swallowed. "Okay."

"We’re not. And we won’t be for a ways yet." A pause. "But I wanna be. It’s gonna be bloody hard, but I wanna be."

"Me, too."

Spike nodded. "Right."

"I can live with that."

Things grew silent for a long beat. Neither knew where to look.

Then a throat cleared and from nowhere, Wright appeared, arms loaded down with shovels. "Well," he said. "Now that you two have talked, what do you say we bury this prick?"

*~*~*

"Why?"

Josh stared at him for a long second, not comprehending the question. Either that or the list of reasons why had his brain overloaded and fried, and he couldn’t choke out a word one way or another. Ultimately, what he summoned was an ineloquent, "Whaddya mean, why?"

"I mean why. Why? It’s time, Josh."

"It’s really not, Sam!"

"Just for the record," Donna said, throwing back a healthy gulp of whisky. "I’m not coming in tomorrow. And when the Mrs. Santos asks why, I’m blaming you."

"No one asked you to start drinking," Josh muttered.

"You get me out of bed as early as you did, and I’d have to be crazy not to drink."

"Yeah. Not like your job’s important."

"Apparently not to you, Mr. Sleep Deprivation."

"Why can’t I push it through?" Sam demanded, his eyes bleary. "She wouldn’t have to live in secrecy. She could…"

"One woman isn’t a reason for pushing a bill through Congress. Especially this bill."

"Why?"

The question made Josh’s eye twitch. "Because it’s insane, Sam! You’ll look insane!"

"Monsters are real. I’ve seen ‘em."

"Yes, but the greater public doesn’t know that."

"Not yet."

"Not ever! Do you have any idea what sort of pandemonium we’d be looking at? Mass public chaos and witch hunts. It’d be the Salem Witch Trials meets the Black List. We can’t do that."

"Aha, good sir. Aha! But if we teach people—"

"You can’t educate people about this!"

Sam blinked. "Why’s not?"

"Look how well educating the public about abortion and gay rights has gone. You throw in demons and the wackos on the Right will have a fucking heyday saying the world’s ending and this is what we get!"

"Why," Donna said slowly, her eyes on the bottle in her hand. "Are you treating a drunk man with a sober man’s logic?"

Josh gestured emphatically. "Because this drunk man’s going to be president some day! But first I have to make sure he doesn’t colossally fuck up the career he has today by insisting that demons deserve the right to vote."

"I’m right and you’re not," Sam said childishly.

"Yeah," Donna said with a snort, raising the bottle to her lips. "Good luck making your arguments, Johnny Cochran. The jury’s out."


	48. Chapter 48

The night had definitely taking a turn for the better, and that was something Lilah Morgan couldn’t often boast. She’d walked from her car to her apartment and found the gift that kept on giving. Nothing beat a seriously bitter man with keen insight to the way Wolfram and Hart’s largest enemy operated. In one night, Lilah had built upon her personal profile and practically tripled her worth to the company.

"So we have a pregnant witch," Lilah said, unable to conceal her grin. "And a new slayer."

"And Zack."

She waved. "And Zack, of course."

"Zack’s the whole reason I’m here," Wesley said, his voice soft and dangerous. "Don’t be flippant."

"I’m never flippant about business." Lilah leaned forward eagerly. "I’m quite certain Wolfram and Hart can piece together a very attractive package for your needs regarding Mr. Morris. But the pregnant witch…do you have any idea how powerful she is?"

Wesley nodded. "Having experienced her power firsthand, I’ll say yes."

"The Senior Partners are going to be very interested in her progression," she mused. "And the new slayer, of course. The Partners have never been able to harness a slayer’s powers, despite numerous attempts." She frowned. "There’s potential there. Wesley, I think—"

The lamp she’d lit at the beginning of the meeting suddenly started flickering, a terrible tremble rumbling through the ground. Lilah bounded to her feet immediately.

"There it is," she said calmly.

"What?" Wesley asked, jumping up.

"The witch in question. It was just a matter of time after what happened earlier." Lilah sighed. "She might as well come here, especially if she’s looking for you."

For the first time all night, Wesley’s eyes widened with fear. "Lilah—"

"Don’t worry," Lilah said. "You don’t work at Wolfram and Hart without learning how to find a place to hide."

*~*~*

The door rattled on its hinge and would have blown away directly had it not flown open the next second.

"Willow," Lilah Morgan said with a large, phony smile. "Rosenberg, I presume? See, we’ve never officially met."

The witch’s eyes were shaded with black, her red hair billowing behind her. "That’s too bad," she said. Then, with a wave of her hand, the other woman tore away from the door like an unwanted doll. The ground beneath the redhead’s feet sat at least two inches from her levitated toes, her body trembling with rage. "You know?" she said slowly. "I’ve never even met you, and I’m tired of you. You fuck with my friends, you fuck with my family, and you fuck with me. You took away Zack’s soul and then cost me what could have been the most rewarding romantic getaway this girl’s had since the last time your meddling cost me a boyfriend. So let’s do this just once, all right?"

Willow held up a hand, silencing whatever retort waited on Lilah’s lips.

"Try it," she said softly. "Just one more time. Tell your friends to try to drain me again. You kids see what happens."

Lilah made a screaming sound and shook her head.

"In the meantime," Willow continued, "I’m here for Wesley."

Lilah’s eyes went wide with confusion.

"Wesley. Medium height, build, dark hair, brown eyes, English accent?" She floated forward. "Don’t play coy, I know he’s…"

Then, just like that, it vanished. The feeling, the sense, the presence of Wesley. His whole essence disappeared like dust in the wind. In seconds, she was left hollow and vacant.

People didn’t just vanish like that. It didn’t work that way. Not even death could completely eradicate a person’s signature.

"Where is he?" Willow demanded.

Lilah screamed mutely.

"Oh," she replied, bored, waving a hand. "I forgot."

"Gone," the woman gasped, clawing at her throat. "He left. He said…he came here to kill me."

Willow arched a brow. "Kill you?"

"I’m just as responsible as that vampire," Lilah spat as she heaved a sigh and climbed to her feet. "Wesley’s a lot of things, Ms. Rosenberg, and stupid is not one of them. As an intelligent young woman, yourself, I suspect you know as much already. He’s filled with rage right now and he has nowhere to aim it. He knows he will be stopped if he returns to the Hyperion to carry out the deed he most wants accomplished and right now, he seems to feel turning to those of us who were responsible for removing Mr. Morris’s soul in the first place."

The black covering Willow’s eyes began to recede, her feet floating back to the ground. "You look healthy enough," she remarked. "Wesley came here to kill you and, what, changed his mind?"

"Human blood isn’t as easy to wash out as vampire dust."

"Oh. So you qualify as human."

"Listen," Lilah said, "once I report him to the Senior Partners, they will consider him a threat and order a destroy on sight edict. If you want to see your friend alive again, I strongly advise you to tinker with whatever magic you’re using to detect him now. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce is no novice, and he knows this town upwards and downwards. If he’s off your radar, that likely means one of his suppliers has paid out."

Willow studied the other woman for long moment. She’d had little idea what she would do once she arrived, aside from pull off one hell of a light show, but now, standing where she stood, how to proceed evaded her. There was no way to tell if Lilah was being honest, and based on Wolfram and Hart’s track record, she leaned toward willful deception.

Yet Wesley wasn’t here. She didn’t feel him. She didn’t feel him anywhere.

"I’m not going far," Willow said. "Never far. I don’t believe you, for starters. And then there’s that thing where you tried to turn off my batteries."

"That was—"

"I’m guessing the word you’re looking for isn’t mistake, but I’m going to give you the benefit of a doubt, anyway. Because honey, mistake doesn’t cover it. Next time you try to take out my power, you’ll find out just how much of a bitch I can be when you’ve pissed me off." Willow shrugged. "That is if you survive trying."

"You know, and I realize this is off topic, but I’d really love to work with you sometime."

Willow snickered. "You couldn’t afford me."

*~*~*

Kelly was slowly driving herself mad. Her motherly instinct was kicked into full gear as she tried to contain the urge to run down the hall and snatch her baby girl back. Knowing that Zack was as much a parent didn't calm her worries. Even Willow's assurances that the soul was safe and secure couldn't pacify her desire to keep her daughter away from him.

She had spent the first hour or so looking through a spell book Willow had brought from Hogwarts. Kelly knew that an eternity was the beginning of a really long time, though she hadn't fully processed the idea of living forever. It would only be precautionary for her to study up on a bit of magic and spell work. Also, Kelly thought it was pretty damn cool the way that Willow could do nearly anything with a thought and a flick.

The book had a calming effect. Diagrams and incantations kept her mind distracted until she sensed Zack walk down the hall.

Panic struck her like a fist to the gut. Why had he left? Was Rosie okay? Had he lost his soul? Hopping off the bed, she eased the door open and crept down the hall. Outside the closed room, she could sense Rosie and there was no trace of blood in the air. The child's heart was beating and from the muffled quiet, she predicted that the girl was asleep.

That still didn't stop her mind from worry. Was he hungry? Was he out to hurt himself? Was he going to talk to someone? Why not her? With a shake of her head, she headed back to her room and closed the door. After pacing for several minutes, she sat down on the bed and listened for his return.

After an hour and four minutes, her resolve cracked. She had checked his room three times and discovered Rosie the only occupant. Justifying his absence as a security risk, she decided to make her way downstairs.

She was only three steps down when Buffy met her from the opposite direction. "Oh!" Kelly gasped in surprise.

The elder vampire gave a weak smile. "Not a stealthy sneak there, were ya?"

Kelly blushed. "Well, actually I was just heading downstairs to…get a drink of water."

"Not a stealthy liar there, either."

"No," she looked to the floor.

"Don't worry," Buffy said taking her shoulder and directing the brunette back up the stairs. "I met up with Wright when I went to get a drink of water." She paused and grinned. "Looking for Spike."

"And?"

"Well, he said that him and Zack had their final goodbye to daddy dearest."

"So, that means…"

"Zack and Spike are burying him as we speak." Buffy released a sigh as she followed Kelly into the bedroom. "Guess it was pretty poetic that Zack and Wright were there together when it happened. Think they deserved it."

"Yeah," Kelly absently replied as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Actually," the blonde vampire began after several moments of silence. "I'm glad I ran into you. I really wanted to talk to you." Kelly looked up with curious eyes. "You see, I never really got a chance to sit down and talk to you about the whole situation of transporting Zack back to the Hyperion. I know I should have at least heard your side, but I knew it was what we had to do right or wrong. You know?"

Kelly nodded slowly and had just begun to open her mouth to speak when Buffy started in once more. "I mean, I know I'm not the boss of everybody even if that what everybody thinks I think. And I know that you and Spike and Giles and Xander and Wright and…" she paused ever so briefly. "Everybody wasn't happy about the situation. And honestly, I'm not so fine and dandy myself. There is a whole lot of water under the bridge and I'm not sure if it still isn't going to flood over. But I knew that until we got him back here and started to deal with it all, we weren't going to heal. I'm not saying we can forgive and forget so easily, but we have to heal. You have to heal and I have to heal and Spike has to heal and…well Zack has to heal. You know?"

Kelly stared blankly up at her sire. She was afraid to verbally reply because Buffy was liable to start in again at any moment. And she was right.

"Look, I know Spike is pissed at me. I don't like it when he's pissed, but I'm not backing down. I know we had to do this even if he's too blind to see it. And I know you're probably angry to, but I want you to know that I didn't do this to hurt you. And I'm not forcing everybody to forgive and forget. I'm not. I just think we are going to have to deal with this family style. You know?"

It was several seconds before Kelly felt it was safe to talk. Once she determined that Buffy was through, she spoke. "I'm not angry with you, Buffy," she said quietly.

"Really?"

"Oh, I'm angry all right," she said with more fervor than before. "I'm a whole lot of things. But I'm not angry with you. Derek, yes. Wolfram and Hart, absolutely. Zack, right or wrong, I can't help but be upset. And Faith? Well, the bitch best not be waiting for a sympathy card for going out and getting killed." Kelly didn't look up to watch Buffy's slightly bemused reaction. "But more than all of those combined, I'm so mad at myself."

"Huh?"

Kelly glanced to her sire before focusing on wringing the hands in her lap. "I'm just sure this was all my fault."

"Why? Because you have a secret allegiance with Wolfram and Hart? Get real, Kel."

"No, it's just that…I could have prevented all of this from happening."

"By dying when they came after you the first two times? I don't think that would have done a damn bit of good."

Kelly shook her head. "I could have stopped Zack. I…he asked me about a year ago to…he wanted to do the claim."

"You think that if you and Zack had mated that you could have stopped him from going evil when he lost his soul?"

"Of course!" she cried as she hopped off the bed and faced her blonde mentor. "Don't you see? If Zack had been mated to me then once he lost a soul, I could have used my pull to keep him from jumping off the edge. I could have controlled his demon like you do with Spike."

Buffy moved in one fluid motion as she shoved Kelly on the bed and stepped over her. "Okay, babe. We need an intervention before the crazy thoughts in your head go any crazier." As Kelly made to speak, the slayer gestured for silence. "First, before we address you craziness in claim land, we have to talk Spike. Spike is the exception to the rule. I don't control him with a claim or anything else to not bite. He does that on his own."

"But how?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't really know, but I know it’s one of the big reasons I love him. He has a power inside that I can't even put into words. But that doesn't have anything to do with the claim. And a claim wouldn't have stopped Zack once he lost his soul."

"How do you know for sure?"

"Well, because that's not how it works. Claims aren't soul-guards. All a claim between you two would have done is made everything worse."

"But—"

"Say you guys went and mated. Once he lost his soul, you would have been his primary target. He'd have to kill you to quit feeling your share of the bond. And you would have gone downright insane feeling all of the evil surging out of him. Would you want to feel all that?"

"But how can you be so sure? Maybe since I am a vampire with a soul, it would have prevented it."

"Don't you hear me? I'm mated with Spike, but the claim doesn't keep him in check. He keeps himself in check." When Kelly gave no response, Buffy sighed. "Look, I know I'm not expert here, but I know there was nothing you could have done."

"Maybe so," Kelly reasoned.

Buffy bent down and hugged her friend and childe. She held her for several minutes before pulling back. "Just stop blaming yourself. If you're gonna blame somebody, blame me. I haven't exactly been the best teacher."

"Buffy."

"It's true. We aren't human anymore. We're vampires and we all need a lesson on that." She gave a weak smile. "Me included."

"Okay," Kelly replied.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll blame you." When the brunette gave a smile, Buffy returned in kind.

*~*~*

The cramp in his neck was what finally caused Josh to stir around 4:30 in the morning. As he fumbled for his cell phone to check the time, he shifted in his seat and realized why he was so uncomfortable. He was slumped in one of the chairs in Sam's living room. It was a wing-back chair that looked perfect with the decor of the room. Unfortunately, two minutes on it and you were itching to move.

Josh didn't mind that now. Somewhere between falling asleep and dreaming he had developed the perfect plan. The plan that was going to fix all of his other plans that had gone so wrong. The plan that was going to make Sam happy, get Willow to back off and get his best friend elected to the highest office California had to offer.

Getting up, he saw that Sam was sprawled out on the twin to his unpleasant sleeping companion. Donna had managed to score the sofa and looked pretty content as she lay unconscious. As quietly as he could, he moved over and began to gently shake her. "Huh?" she said in confusion as her eyes briefly fluttered open.

"Come on, hot stuff. Sam's out and I need to get home and shower before work." The woman reluctantly pulled herself up, but made quiet whining whimpers until they were out the door and inside a taxi cab.

"Don't see why you couldn't have just let me sleep," she grumbled as they took off to their apartment.

"Because I need your help."

"Taking a shower or getting dressed?"

Josh ignored the curious look the driver was giving them through the rearview mirror. "Maybe. What I really need is Ainsley's new number."

Donna blinked. "You want her to help you take a shower or get dressed?"

Josh had to smirk. He wasn't sure if she was pulling his chain or if she was really still asleep. "Maybe. But more importantly I want t know if she can help Sam."

"You want to know if she can help Sam take a shower or get dressed?"

"Yes."

Donna whacked him on the shoulder. "Hey!" He stammered.

"That's for the Ainsley maybe. But more importantly, what are you up to, Josh Lyman?"

"Just a little game of Match Game."

"Why do I have a feeling this is going to turn out bad?"

"Because you're sleepy."

"And because you're horrible at this sort of thing."

"I'm not horrible, I've just had bad luck. But this is different. Sam and Ainsley had all the signs. They clicked. They would have gone for it, but the timing wasn't right. Sam as much as told me. So, I say there's no better time than the present."

"Again, I have a bad feeling about this."

"Wait and see, Miss Doubting Thomas. Wait and see."

*~*~*

Zack had no idea how long he had been gone as he made his way back upstairs to his room. When he opened the door, the sight of Rosie sound asleep brought a brief smile to his face. He wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his baby girl and wish the big bad world away. It would have been the perfect end to the day had he not been covered in the blood of his dead father.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way over to the dresser and rummaged for a clean pair of pajamas. Then, as silently as he could, he tiptoed his way toward the bathroom.

Somehow, Rosie had heard a noise that caused her to sit up straight in the bed. "Daddy?" she called.

"It's all okay, Pigtails," he assured her. "Go back to sleep."

"But…" her voice trailed off and her eyes flashed with fear as she saw the blood covering his arms and clothes.

Zack wanted to break down in tears. He could read every terrible and horrific thought flowing across her face. "No, Rosie. It's really okay. I'm still Daddy." His voice grew thick. "I promise."

"W-What happened?" she asked nervously as her eyes scanned the room.

How to tell your daughter that you had just killed your father was a bit of a delicate subject. Not that the child had a strong attachment to the evil bastard that now lay buried out by the dumpster. But it was never good for a parent to talk about murder with their children. Especially before puberty. "Well," he tried the best to give her a disarming smile. "Your Uncle Wright and I decided that it was best if…well, you see your grandfather Morris was a very bad man. He did some really bad things and he didn't lose a soul or anything in the process. After a lot of conversation your uncle and I decided it would be best if he left."

"You killed him." She wasn't asking a question. She was stating it outright.

"Well, in a manner or speaking…." Zack sighed. There really wasn't any point trying to hide anything from the girl. "Yeah. We killed him."

"Oh." She didn't seem very upset or disturbed by the news. "Well, are you going to lay down after you change?"

"Yeah." She took it calmly. A little too calmly. It kinda freaked him out. "You mean you're okay with the fact I just killed your grandfather?"

She blinked. "He was an awful evil man. He tried to kill…well everybody. He made you evil and he made you kill Fred and Nikki. He was a bad bad man who wasn't going to be good. He couldn't."

Her response wigged him out even more. "You're kinda freaky, you know that?"

The child gave him a smile. "Daddy, of course I know that."

"Well, good. Just as long as you know." He stood there and looked at his daughter. He really had no idea how he'd help make such a remarkable piece of humanity. "You know your mom and I aren't half as amazing as you, don't you?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Totally."

"Yeah," he said as he wiggled the clothes in his hand. "I'm taking a shower so feel free to go back to sleep."

"Okay." He felt her eyes on him as he reached the bathroom door. "Daddy, I love you."

He tried to keep the emotion from spilling out as he spoke. Somehow, he knew she still could sense he was verging on tears even though he didn't turn around. "I love you, too, Rosie."

*~*~*

She’d never done this before. By rule of thumb, Faith wasn’t big on the whole "apologizing" thing and figured anyone who had any beef with her ought to be man enough to mention it rather than let things simmer. That was her philosophy, at least, and one she followed on both ends. If she felt slighted, she sure as fuck let the other person know they’d fucked with the wrong gal.

Still, she had the foresight to know this was her screw-up. She’d already talked it over with Wright, and had hoped that the little incident of her death would have made them even on this end…but there were some things more important than pride. At the moment, patching up a family was one of them. Faith might never have had the luxury of a family, but she knew how important they were to others. She also knew how far something small could go when things were as tense as they were currently.

Therefore, swallowing a gulp of self-importance, she raised her hand to the door and knocked.

She had no idea if Kelly was more surprised to see her standing there than she was to be doing the standing.

"Yeah," Faith said, sliding her hands into her pockets. "It’s me. Don’t die of shock or nothin’."

Kelly stared at her dumbly. "What…what are you…do you need something?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Actually, I do. See, there’s this…I don’t do this often, understand. Or, you know, ever. But I got to thinkin’ earlier…with all the shit that’s going on and you have your kids to worry with and not to mention what’s gonna happen now that all the dust is settling."

"Faith—"

"I fucked up. I’ve already had the big talk with Wright, before all the shit started to get really shitty. I know I did you wrong, K. I didn’t mean to go out and get laid that night."

Kelly’s eyes widened, as though she hadn’t trusted Faith had actually meant to discuss the night she boned her evil husband. Ire flashed behind the vampire’s gaze, alongside confusion, but burning bright nonetheless.

"And yeah," Faith continued, "I know this is comin’ a few weeks too late, but I’m sorry. For whatever it’s worth, I didn’t…I don’t think in those kinda situations. I feel them out, see where they’re going, and if I think there’s a way to get close to my kill, I go for it. That seemed the best way to get close, and I just didn’t think about it the way B would have. My brain doesn’t work like that. I wasn’t thinking about you or him bein’ your hubby or anything but the fact that he was a dangerous vamp who wanted to fuck and I was the girl who’d get him off the streets if he chose me to dance with. I know that’s not what you wanna hear or anything, or even…shit, I’m not making things better, am I? I don’t…"

Kelly’s eyes softened, but not completely. Overall, her expression remained unreadable. "Faith…"

"Yeah," Faith said. "I don’t want your forgiveness or even ask that you believe me or whatever. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for fucking with you when you really didn’t need to be fucked with. And I’m sorry for causing more shit between you and Zack. I really am."

This was going nowhere fast, and she didn’t know how to wrap it up. Thus with an awkward smile with little feeling behind it, Faith nodded once before heading back down the hallway. Kelly didn’t follow, and she wasn’t surprised. Faith didn’t think she’d follow her, either.

She likewise wasn’t surprised to see Hunter waiting for her at the end of the hall. The boy wasn’t exactly what she’d call stealthy.

"That was a very nice thing you did," he said softly.

"Wasn’t lookin’ for the boy scout vote, but thanks."

Hunter grinned. "Faith did a nice thing…"

She made a face. "Fuck off."

"I’d love to."

"Really? Not too limp?"

His smirk turned predatory, one of those reminding her how much of a little boy Hunter was not. There were times, albeit she’d never tell, that he could make her knees feel slightly weak. It was a purely physical reaction, she knew, and one she returned in kind every chance she got…and though she knew he used her as a vessel by which to vent his sexual frustration, she didn’t mind, so long as he knew he was being used right back.

"I’ve rested up," Hunter said.

"Gonna hold you to that, cowboy."

"Giddy-up."

*~*~*

Buffy was truly starting to hate the Hyperion.

Strange how a place could change based on perception. Once upon a time, she’d loved this lobby. She loved how open and freeing it was, how she and Spike could make out like teenagers in whatever corner they found and not disturb anyone, yet still remain close in case something happened. The broad, open windows hadn’t frightened her, even in the days before sun-repelling rings. Anything after the dungeon was a welcome breath of air. The days here, after she’d taken Spike back to LA, had been some of the happiest in her life.

Now everything was different. Horrendously so. The open foyer had far too many access points—too many places for a villain to hide, or for someone to walk unwittingly into an unfriendly embrace. She saw blood stains on the floor where Spike had vomited after Zack kidnapped her, saw the place where William had fallen after his father released the choke hold, saw the place where Kelly had sat in a state of near catatonia after word regarding her husband sank in. So many unhappy memories had repaved those she’d once cherished; in many ways, the Hyperion now felt as much a prison as Wolfram and Hart. It might be a place where she escaped into the arms of friends, but also the place where people walked around like disaster victims, waiting for their lives to intervene and take them back to the place where they actually belonged.

The environment was poison.

Buffy sighed, dragging the morning paper off the front veranda. "Hello, Melody," she said as she turned around.

The older woman jumped, her hand flying over her heart. "Goodness, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that."

Buffy smiled wryly. "The nose always knows," she replied. It was something Spike was always saying. "What are you doing up so early?"

Melody crossed her arms. "I…I guess I was wondering…"

"What we’re going to do with your son?"

"He killed Derek."

Buffy licked her lips and nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I know."

"Spike tell you?"

"No, it’s just something you know when you’re a vampire. You feel people living and breathing and dying. I felt it when he died…granted, I wasn’t sure until Spike came in covered in blood and dirt with the announcement he and the Zacks had just buried their father."

Melody stared at her a long beat before sighing in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"What?"

"I don’t know…I guess I thought you would react differently."

"The guy was evil."

"Human, though."

Buffy shrugged. "Once upon a time, yeah, I would’ve demanded his fate be left up to the human justice system. You can’t define otherworldly crimes based on human court. What Derek did could never be proven in your world, and it certainly wouldn’t be believed without risking exposure of ours. That man betrayed and caused the deaths of, just to name a few, Fred, Nikki, Wright’s first wife and son, not to mention the slew of others Zack killed while running around unsouled. Yeah, he definitely deserved to die…and I’m glad it was Zack who did it. Must’ve been therapeutic."

Melody nodded, pursing her lips. "Actually," she said, "I’ve wondered recently if I shouldn’t have taken Zack to therapy years ago. It might have helped him with his father issues, namely Derek’s permanent absenteeism. I saw so much of that in him when he was…not himself. Particularly with the way he reacted to Kelly and the kids…and, well, all of you. Really, everything I’ve learned over the past few days, and everything I’ve seen or experienced, really just strikes me as Zack, no matter what state he’s in, acting out because his father—"

"Therapy wouldn’t have saved any lives," Buffy said. "Zack lost his soul, Melody. You can’t think you were in anyway responsible for what he did."

"But perhaps he wouldn’t have been so violent—"

"Melody. He. Lost. His. Soul."

"I know."

Buffy held her gaze for a minute before breaking off with a long sigh. "I don’t know," she said after a moment. "Zack would have always been evil and killed people without a soul, Melody. That’s just the way that works. I’ve already had to explain this to Kelly—souls are the deal-breakers. But…yeah, Zack has always had a slight inferiority complex."

"With Spike," Melody supplied. "Any mother could see it."

"He also wasn’t the happiest pig in shit when we rediscovered our past with Wright. Even if we had no way of knowing or predicting what had happened or how it had happened."

"Of course. He was afraid of losing his father’s approval and attention." Melody cleared her throat. "Your husband being the father in this situation."

"He hates that comparison."

"I know, but as I understand it—"

"He who sires also parents. Yeah, to a degree that’s true. But Spike and Zack are more like brothers."

Melody nodded. "I know." She paused. "You also must bear in mind that Zack is used to being the center of attention. He acted out all through school…and Spike is much the same way. Being that he’s older and—"

"In charge?" Buffy asked.

"Well—"

"Getting me was a way to get Spike," she said. "Get back at him for…well, it was also a way to get me, but I think it was more aimed at Spike. The things he said…"

Melody’s eyes widened as if only then remembering Buffy’s incarceration and rape.

Buffy shifted self-consciously, suddenly desperate to change the subject. "I…you know, there might be something we can do for him now," she said. "LA is a demon hotspot for a reason. There are all kinds of businesses and demonic entrepreneurs who are coming up with new things. If ever there’d be a place for demon therapy…"

"Therapy?"

She shrugged. "I don’t know. All I know is we can’t just keep wading around here like we’re in Limbo or something, and we can’t go home. Not yet."

Melody’s shoulders dropped. "You’re not going back to New York."

"I don’t think Zack or Kelly could find an airport right now, much less remember how to live together in the same house. Plus Cordy has the new baby and Wright hasn’t even really gotten to bond with his brother."

"Buffy…"

She nodded, licking her lips. "Yeah. Look, I’m not in charge here—"

"You could’ve fooled me."

It wasn’t a judgmental remark, rather an honest reaction. Buffy could tell that just from the look in the other woman’s eyes; she likewise sensed gratitude and humor in a world without any. For that, she smiled. "Well," she said. "I do tend to make most of the important decisions."

"Like bringing my Zack home."

Her smile faltered a bit but didn’t vanish completely. "Yeah. Like that."

"Buffy, if you think you can get him into therapy—"

"This is a long shot, understand. I have no idea what sort of therapy you’d offer a vampire, anyway. Until me, Zack and Kelly, souled vamps were pretty much limited to one." She shrugged. "Daddy issues and guilt complexes, I’m not sure a demon therapist could do much."

Melody nodded. "Still…it doesn’t hurt to try."

"I guess not."


	49. Chapter 49

Two hours had passed since she’d shown up on Lilah Morgan’s doorstep, and Willow still hadn’t stopped shaking. It had been a long while since she’d juiced herself up with magic to make a point, her recent stint as a dark-haired baddy notwithstanding. Attempting to tear down a wall was one thing, but jacking herself up on power in order to make a point was something dangerously close to the darkness she’d once felt so thoroughly.

"All right," Willow said, sighing heavily as she moved about her bedroom. Most of what she had was already packed, save the few ingredients she’d left out to double-check the security checkpoints she’d set up in case Wolfram and Hart came knocking again. "Newt eyes. Toad tongues. Rabbit’s foot. Raven feathers…"

"Willow."

"Willow." She frowned and straightened. "Wait. That’s me." She turned around, her eyes clashing with Xander’s. "Oh, hi."

"You’re leaving?"

"I’ve been on vacation about thirty-seven days longer than I applied for. Semester started last week and I’ve had to rely on a substitute teacher."

"Hogwarts has substitutes?"

Willow shrugged. "I got Neville to cover my classes. He’s more for Herbology, but after the Battle of Hogwarts, he definitely knows his stuff. The trouble is he has to use a Time Turner to get to both his Herbology classes and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Willow—"

"There’s really nothing else for me to do here," she said. "I’ve given instructions to Wright about how to uplift Zack’s imprisonment, and Giles should be able to work that incantation with no problem. The Hyperion now has more security than the White House, and I have a life to get back to."

"And a father to visit. More specifically, your baby’s father to visit."

She stared at him for a second. "How’d you know?"

"That you’re going to go to visit your baby’s father?"

"Yes."

"Well, one, you’re Willow," he replied with a smirk. "I know you. I’ve known you since we were sperm."

She made a face. "Nice visual."

He grinned. "Secondly, I saw this—" He held up a plane ticket, "on the dresser."

"Ah."

"The pieces are coming together. Your man is a politician."

Willow arched a brow. "Because he lives in DC?"

"Yes."

"There are more than politicians in DC."

Xander shrugged. "Could’ve fooled me."

"Xander—"

"Just promise me you’ll call me once you get in and once you have talked with this so-called baby daddy."

Willow giggled. "He’s not so-called, Xan. I’m more than just a little pregnant, you know."

He offered a soft grin. "When’s your flight?"

"In about five hours."

"That’s fast."

She nodded. "It gave me enough time to get things together. Also, it was the first one I saw on Orbitz…though they’ve already changed my departing flight from DC three times and it’s only been an hour. Now I’m flying into Reagan and out of Dulles to LaGuardia. I think." She frowned. "It was originally supposed to be all out of Reagan."

"Can I give you a lift?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I’d like that."

"Plus it’d save you from having to Apparate and incurring the Wrath O’ Buffy for splinching mini-you."

"True story."

*~*~*

In another world, another time, Wesley would have gladly chopped off his right hand before even considering signing a document issued by Wolfram and Hart.

It only took one read-through. Everything seemed in order.

"Do you have any questions?"

He didn’t bat an eye. "No," he said, lowering the pen to the signature line. He knew what was about to happen. He knew the second he signed the contract, he would owe Wolfram and Hart his blood if he couldn’t deliver. He’d been there and done that.

But the semantics were there.

Zack Morris would dust.

The price? The power of a slayer.

It was perfect, really. A sort of poetic justice. Faith had died and triggered Rosalie’s inner slayer. After the contract was fulfilled, Rosalie would return to her normal, human life and be freed of the death promised by a slayer’s existence.

Perhaps he could save her.

As for Wright…the man had made his ties.

"Mr. Pryce?"

Wesley glanced up, his lips tugging into a smile. "My apologies," he said.

Then he signed it. Blood inked out of the pen’s tip.

_Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_

*~*~*

Dawn had arrived, but Zack hadn’t rested. He struggled with sleep in the wee hours of the morning when Rosie laid curled next to his side. The one time he dozed off, a nightmare of images flashed before him and the fact that the majority were a reality of what he had done drove him awake with a horrified gasp.

He wasn’t going to complain. He was grateful to be alive. To watch his daughter and know somewhere within these walls his wife and son were safe from harm. They were temporarily safe from whatever evil lived deep inside his demon body.

As usual, his daughter woke up bright-eyed and alert. A definite trait she had inherited from her mother. She was perturbed when he refused to go downstairs and join her for dinner. "I think I better just stay up here for now," he’d explained when he declined to go and make her eggs and toast.

"Why?" she’d demanded.

"Well, I don’t think too many people want to hang out with me at the moment."

"That’s lame," the child had declared. "Everyone is being stupid."

"Maybe I am, too. It’s not too easy to go down there and pretend we’re all buddies at the moment. Someday, I think you’re going to learn that forgiveness comes harder for us grownups."

She hadn’t been satisfied with that, but had eventually grown bored with the debate and decided to go and find out whom else was awake. This had come as a blessing to the vampire, who was still finding it hard to look at the little girl without remembering all the torture he’d put her through.

He could sense Kelly somewhere below. He needed her so much right now that he fought to keep himself contained. Zack had been through a lot in the past few years and every experience had been shared with her. And every time he felt himself moving in the wrong direction, he had had Kelly’s wise words of optimism to put him right. Without her, he wasn’t sure eternity was worth the cost.

How could he ever be forgiven? Not only had he committed murder, torture, rape and molestation…he had cheated on her. For some reason he knew that would be the offense closest to her heart. In fact, he knew it so much that he had done it countless times while he was soulless. The sex had been his revenge. Darla, Faith and Lilah had all been pawns in his vindictive game.

Buffy had been a pawn, too. In the light he could admit it now. He had used her not to attack Kelly, but to attack Spike.

With a low growl, he pulled himself off the bed and began to pace the room. Spike was such a confusing subject to his mind. He wanted his best friend back. The memories they’d made the past few years were priceless. Zack Morris had truly found an equal in the world of schemes and pranks. Their days were spent inventing new ways to get whatever their whims desired. It was truly Zack Morris’ utopia.

But on a level Zack still couldn’t fully comprehend, there was more. Spike had begun to fulfill a more serious role to the young vampire. He’d felt the need to impress the platinum vampire more and more to gain his attention. Over the past few months, Zack had become driven to seek out a way to make Spike proud of him. He didn’t understand why those feelings were developing so strong, and it was irritating.

He reverted back to the days he was a boy, desperately seeking those same things from Derek Morris. The fact that he was looking to his best friend as some sort of father figure not only confused him, but pissed him off. He didn’t care about vampire order and society. Spike might have been his sire, but he wasn’t any better that him, he’d told himself. Age didn’t mean anything other than more tricks up the sleeve. He was determined to move past his feeling and get things equal once again.

He’d hoped this trip to California would do that. Give him a break and allow himself to mellow out. Zack was convinced telling his mother his undead secret would strengthen him and make him move away from his inferiority complex. And that might have been a terrific plan had he not met Zack Wright in the process.

Jealousy had coursed through him with an intensity he had never felt when he watched Spike and Wright make on like the best of friends. Instead of being grateful for the space between them, he had wanted to rip off Wright’s head and take his rightful place at his sire’s side.

Zack let out a humorless chuckle and he sat back down on the bed. If only that had been his problem these last few weeks. Hell, even the idea of finding out Wright was his brother would have been enough shit to add to the pile.

Unfortunately, Daddy had had other plans.

*~*~*

Rosalie had pulled herself out of bed and dressed with little attention to her actions. It had taken her hours to fall asleep and she never received answers to the questions that had rattled her brain the night before. As shock and confusion had slowly lessened in intensity, her mind had begun to fill with wonder as to what her future had in store.

It had been easy in the beginning. It hadn’t taken much to convince everyone, including herself, that there really wasn’t anything extraordinary about being called on as the next Slayer. Sure, she had a new set of superpowers and an ability to now sense when vamps were near, but she was still the same demon hunter as she had been all her life. There was no need for instructions or guidance. Everything was going to be the same old day to day violence she was accustomed.

As she had laid in bed the night before, it had started to sink in. Slayers seemed to need more than their strength and agility to survive. Even Buffy had been killed in the course of her duty and she must have been the greatest slayer ever. Faith had died at the hands of Zack and that seemed to be a pretty impossible task considering everyone’s reaction.

Maybe she needed help after all.

Making her way out the door and down the hall, she decided to pay Faith a visit. Since the woman was sticking around, she really did want to talk to her about what she needed to do next. Did she really need Hunter around? Wasn’t he just supposed to tell her about the demon world? If that was the case, she really doubted there was any reason for him to stay on duty. Surely Faith could fill her in on the best moves and set her on her way.

Reaching Faith’s door, she knocked lightly. It was still pretty early and she figured the brunette had probably opted for a late night. Surprised that the door opened so quickly, her mouth dropped when she saw Hunter standing in the light of the hallway in nothing but a pair of black boxers. "Oh, Rosalie," he yelped as he looked nearly as startled as her.

"I can come back," she said quickly.

"No, no…" Hunter shifted uncomfortably and reached up to flatten his wildly messed hair. "I was just getting ready to head back to my room."

"Is that Ro?" Faith called loudly from the darkness behind him.

"Sorry," Rosalie called to her. "I was just wanting to chat, but I can—"

"C’mon in!" the spunky brunette called. Hunter opened the door wider and Rosalie looked inside to see Faith crawling out of bed wearing nothing but a black thong.

"Uhhh…" the young blonde quickly turned her head away in embarrassment.

"It’s cool," Faith said calmly, taking her sweet time to find her shirt on the floor.

"Faith and I were just discussing—"

"Fucking," Faith clarified. "We weren’t really discussing much except my desperate need for a shower and a snack."

Hunter’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. "Faith!"

"Nancy, let’s not pretend the girl’s a prude. We’re not all British around here."

"Seriously," Rosalie said awkwardly. "I can so come back."

"What’s up?" the now half-dressed slayer asked once she pulled a tee over her head. "No more trouble in paradise is there?"

"Not that I know of." She paused. It seemed weird to begin with, but this just made it worse. "I just wanted to talk to you. About…you know…slayer stuff."

Faith gave a nod of understanding. "Feels pretty fucked up when it all starts to kick in."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Hunter cleared his throat. "I can go if you want."

"No," Faith sald slowly. "I think you might stick around. Since she’s ready to talk it up, I think we better work out the weirdness of this little threesome going down."

"Faith!" Hunter balked.

"Get out of your dirty little daydreams, Watcher Boy. I meant in the Slayer sense." Faith gave Rosalie a smirk and an eye roll before moving on. "The giant pink elephant’s in the room and everyone’s wondering how to train with a watcher and a slayer."

"Well…" Rosalie had tried to come up with a proper response. It failed. "Yeah."

"Good question, huh?" Faith said with a nod. "So, what’s the answer, Nicky?"

Hunter was obviously caught completely off guard by the question and looked desperately from Rosalie to Faith. "Really," he said to the dark slayer in a low voice. "Putting this all off on me, now are we?"

Faith shrugged. "You’re the one getting paid."

With a sigh of disgust he tore his gaze off the girls and made his way to the bed. Sitting down on the edge he spent several quiet moments staring down at his bare feet upon the floor.

"Great explanation there, Watcher Boy," Faith drawled after a couple minutes. "Really enlightening during the whole silent part."

"Bugger off," Hunter grumbled. He was quiet a few moments more before looking back up and making eye contact with Rosalie. "It’s a very precarious position we’ve all been placed in. From the beginning, we’ve been charting on new waters and I feel there are many times to come when we’ll be moving away from the traditional positions of Watcher and Slayer." He gave Faith a brief glance before turning back to the younger woman and continuing. "Traditionally, when a slayer is called she has very little knowledge of the world she’s entering. The first connection made between her and her watcher comes with him explaining to her about demons and the role of the Chosen One. Obviously, that’s a discussion that can be all but bypassed in our relationship. You’ve been fighting the good fight nearly as long as I have, so you certainly know your basics. As for the role of slayers, you met Buffy at a young age and have been introduced to concept of what being a slayer entails."

"Yeah," Faith interjected. "But there is a major diff between knowledge and power."

"I totally concur." Hunter said with a nod. "After the basic introductions, I am supposed to begin explaining to you what has happened to you aside from the obvious boosts in strength and agility. You have senses and powers within you that you’ve never before recognized. Deeper intuition of the world within and around you. I can recite to you all day the different documentations that I’ve read within the Watcher Diaries, but that would be downright ridiculous." He gave a weak smile. "Recitation of second hand accounts has nothing on the personal experience of a living, breathing slayer. No Chosen One has ever been so lucky to have an honest to God go-to-guide before."

"Hmmm…" Faith said "That’s one way to put it."

"Well," Hunter continued. "Faith was technically the first exception to the rule, but decided to feel it out on her own. Records show that it didn’t turn out so well."

"Fuck off."

Hunter gave the brunette a cheeky look and a shrug. "Just stating the facts. There is a lot more to being a slayer than meets the eye. Once you begin to dive into all of the powers surrounding yourself, you have to begin considering the outside factors weighing down upon you. The obvious comes in the fact that you’re now marked with an invisible target making you the prize goal for every demon in this dimension. Thousands of them would love nothing more than taste you blood and boast your death at their hands."

"That’s nice," Rosalie said lamely.

Hunter gave her a sad smile. "Indeed. You’ve been given the most trying position in the world. You are to protect humanity from the fall of the demonic world. The irony of placing this task on a young woman of only sixteen is something that only the Powers themselves can fully understand, yet it’s the burden you’ll have to face for the rest of your life."

"Keep up the pep talk," Faith sarcastically drawled.

"Well, stop me if I’m not being honest," Hunter quipped at her. After a moment of silence, he turned his attention back to Rosalie. "The Powers have instilled in you the powers of the vampire, the most populous and dangerous threat to humanity. They did this to prevent demons from taking over Earth and claiming it as their own. They knew that humanity stood no chance without a defender and the slayer was born to fight the fight against the darkest of evils." He sighed and cast Faith a glance. "Humanity is what separates you from the demons you must fight. But within yourself, humanity is also the easiest aspect to lose sight of. Many good slayers, not only the one standing before you, have battled with this in the past. At times, it has been lost forever and the cause you fight for has been forgotten in the battle. It’s a concept that makes little sense to you now, but I doubt you won’t face it as time goes on."

Faith gave a shrug. "Gotta give the dude his props. He does know his shit when it comes to the textbook."

"Yes, I do." He gave Faith a nod before turning his gaze wholly onto Rosalie. "And that’s where I come in. I know you are undoubtedly thinking that there is little point in my remaining here now that you have Faith as a mentor. And I would be a complete prat if I didn’t admit that I believe you couldn’t make it without me. But, I truly believe that I am capable of being a valuable asset to you as time moves on. They didn’t make me the youngest Watcher in history because of my devilish good looks and exceptional performance in bed."

Faith laughed out loud. "Cocky much, Nancy?"

"Was making a joke," he clarified with a smile. "But seriously, I know that I have knowledge of the demonic that you’d be hard pressed to find outside the Council. I’ve spent the last decade of my life reading and studying demons and apocalypses and how to avert them. Fighting is the end, but knowledge is the means. The Council’s sworn duty is to help the slayer in her battle against evil and it’s my sworn duty to help you in any way I can offer. I know you likely want to send me out the door, but I ask you to let me fulfill my duty by assuring that you can fulfill your own."

The room was silent for several minutes as both women took in everything he’d just said. Faith, as usual, was the first to crack. "The Council won’t let you go it solo. It’s their whole existence to stalk you. Hence the name. They won’t rest unless they have you tailed to make sure you stay away from the Dark Side. From experience, I’ll tell you Nancy’s the pick of the litter. I’ve checked out the puppies and he’s the only one they didn’t get neutered. They all whine a lot, but if you mail him back, they’ll just send you another."

"Thanks," Hunter retorted dryly. "For that glowing recommendation."

"Told ya they whine a lot," Faith said to Rosalie. "But you might as well cut your losses and take this one." She looked to Hunter and gave a melodramatic eye-roll. "Honestly, did you expect me to get down on my knees and beg you stay?"

"You were down there earlier."

Faith’s eyes darkened. "Watch it, Nancy. You’re playing with fire."

"Who said I didn’t mind the burn?"

Rosalie cleared her throat loudly. Hunter looked embarrassed, but Faith seemed completely nonplussed. "I think you made some good points and I don’t see why we can’t all work together," she declared once the awkward sexual bickering had stopped.

"It sounds like a no-brainer to me. I don’t mind it if it’s all good with Watcher Boy."

Hunter gave a smile. "Watcher Boy is content with the situation."


	50. Chapter 50

Josh had known it was going to hard. He just hadn’t expected the battle to begin with getting inside the front door. "Dammit, Sam!" He winced as the door slammed on his foot, but he wasn’t backing down. "Would you just let me in?"

The pressure continued from the other side of the barrier. "I don’t have anything to say."

"I got that when you avoided my last ten calls." Josh shoved harder and sighed with relief when the hinges swung and he gained entry inside Sam’s townhouse.

"Apparently you didn’t get the message," the dark man muttered as he turned away and headed deeper into the dwelling.

"Look, I think we need to talk about the last few days," the curly haired man began.

"No, we really don’t. I know you’re freaked about the other night and everything I said, but I’m sober now and I realize it all. Trust me, Josh. You’re precious campaign is safe."

"My campaign?" Josh balked. "You say it like you don’t want it, too."

"If you have to know, I’m not sure what I want at this point!" The comment lay heavy in the air and neither man spoke for several tension-filled moments. "Seriously," Sam said at last. "I need to grab a shower and get ready for the gala. It starts in about an hour and I just got my tux home from the cleaners. Can’t we do this another time?"

"I don’t think so. We have to work this out. You say you don’t know what you want right now, but I think I do."

Sam whirled around to face him. "Really? Really, Josh? Because I’ve been thinking about this day and night. Every moment I’ve been wondering how I came to be so attracted so fast to woman I barely know. You say she’s a witch, but I say she’s the woman who’s made me feel things I haven’t felt before in my entire life."

"Sam," Josh began gently.

The other man held up a hand of objection. "No, I’m serious. I’m not saying I fell in love with her. It’s powerful, but I’m not some hopeless romantic grasping to every connection I make and seeing it with rose-colored glasses. I’m saying I have no idea what she did to me, but whatever it is I can’t just walk away. I’ve been around the block a few times, Josh, but never have I felt such…" he paused to find his wording. "From the moment we met, I could be myself with Willow. I didn’t feel the need to keep up my defenses or make myself into something I wasn’t. Oh, I used exaggerated hyperboles about how important I was in the beginning, but by the end of the first night I realized she wasn’t impressed by who I was. She was impressed by me. And I was impressed with her, too. She had an outlook on the world and way of expressing herself that I t hadn’t ever seen. She was fresh and inviting and I couldn’t get enough of her."

"I know," Josh sighed. "I know you were attracted to her and that’s why I know what it is you’re wanting."

"You know what I want? An honest to God chance to see where things might have gone. Who knows? The whole thing could have been infatuation of even lust, but I wasn’t given a chance to figure that out. It might have lasted a few weeks or even a few months. Hell, she might have been the proverbial soul mate everyone spends their life searching out. But I’ll never know. You and society aren’t willing to give me the chance. I have to play Pick and Choose and you went ahead and played my hand for me."

"I did what I did because I thought it was what you wanted. I saw your defenses down and decided that I needed to do what my best friend needed me to do. But if you want to throw your career and future away to figure out what might have been, then by all means pick up the phone and let’s give England a call."

Sam sighed. "You know what I mean. It’s not just you making me choose."

"No, it’s not. Do you think the people can handle the idea that all of this crazy shit you’ve just began to see is real? The world thinks vampires are imaginary and that J.K. Rowling just came up with an entertaining book series. If you walked up and told someone your girlfriend worked at Hogwarts you’d be committed. That’s not a biography to people, it’s a fairy tale."

"You honestly don’t think people should get a chance to know the truth for themselves?"

"Do you? Do you think if they knew every detail about how even their government worked, they wouldn’t go into a complete meltdown? Something like this would send them completely off their rockers."

"You’re right," Sam admitted at last. "You’re right, I know. But there’s still the situation of Willow and I."

"That’s something that isn’t going to work. I’m sorry to be the bearer, but I know and Willow knows it. She cut it all off for a reason. You have a life and a career to look to and dabbling in witchcraft isn’t going to do anything but fuck it all up."

"But if I just had a chance—"

"Chances are you’d fuck up your life and Willow’s too. Where do you think you’d fit in her world? You’re nothing more than a Muggle and a liability to her. And she’s a witch and a liability to you."

"So what? I just move on and forget about her?"

"Yes!" Josh said throwing his hands up in the air.

"I don’t think it’s that easy."

"Probably not. You’re a good guy with a big heart and have problems in this department. That’s why you have me. And I came up with the solution to your problem."

Sam’s eyes narrowed. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Because you haven’t accepted how great I am." He didn’t wait for a retort. "You need somebody. You’ve been playing this single thing for way too long and you’re looking for somebody to be coupled with."

"Josh, that’s ridiculous."

"For anybody but you. You need somebody to share it all with. I understand how easier it makes it all. I didn’t before Donna, but now I have superior insight on this thing."

"You have superior insight?"

"Completely. It’s not about the woman, it’s about the emotions. You need to stop looking at Willow and start looking at how good it had felt to you to have that connection with another woman. That’s why I decided that we need to find you a special woman so you can have all that connection you’re looking for."

"That’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard."

"Or the most genius."

"Nope, I’m pretty sure the stupidest."

Josh ignored him. "I did some thinking about what kind of woman was worthy of the Sam Seaborn affection, and I believe I came up with the perfect girl for you and your love connection."

"I think I’m going to punch you," Sam growled as his face grew red with frustration. He had just opened his mouth and took in a deep breath of air to begin an obvious tirade when the doorbell rang. "What the hell?" he said instead.

The grin on Josh’s face was purely maniacal. "Step one is complete." With that, he turned and headed for the door.

"Josh, seriously. Not only is this the worst idea in the history of your bad ideas, but I’m running ridiculously late for the gala."

"I know," Josh said absently as he reached for the doorknob. "That’s why I told your date to come and meet you here." With that, he swung open the door.

She was standing there in deep scarlet evening gown. Her hair was down and as sleek and shiny as ever. It was hard to figure out what was more of a shock to Sam in that moment: the dress or the woman wearing it. She gave a nervous smile and a wave looking right over Josh’s shoulder and into the other man’s eyes. "Hi, Sam."

He swallowed hard. "Hi, Ainsley." 

*~*~*

Buffy licked her lips. She knew he sensed her, which for some reason made approaching the door even harder. Out here, in the hallway, she was in control. And theoretically she’d be in control the second she stepped inside, as well, but a part of her remained detached and secluded from the reality of what had happened. She had talked a good game, getting Zack here. She’d even enjoyed fighting by his side during Wolfram and Hart’s attempted siege, but once everything calmed down and the world turned right again, she remembered what it felt like hanging up in that dungeon. Watching him grin and slice deep cuts into her skin, feel his breath against her ear and his hard body against hers. She ached and trembled and hated feeling weak when she was, in fact, one of the strongest people she could think of.

She hated being the grownup in situations like this. She hated that all of this was, in some way, her idea. Hatred and anger seemed so much easier now.

Buffy inhaled sharply and took a few steps forward. Just a few inches separated her from the wooden door now.

She hadn’t anticipated Zack opening it before she knocked, therefore jumped and nearly stumbled back when she found herself staring into his confused, sad eyes. "Oh!"

"I thought I might make it easier on you."

"Easier?"

Zack nodded, then winced and tore his gaze away. "For what it’s worth, I have no idea why I’m here, either. How you can even bear looking at me—"

"It’s hard. But it’s not going to get any easier if you hide out all day."

"I didn’t think anyone wanted to see me."

"They don’t." Buffy fought a flinch when his eyes returned to hers. She’d never thought much about eyes before, but the amazing difference between Zack’s now and the Zack of a few weeks ago couldn’t go unnoticed. The cold, black hate with which he’d once regarded her was something she’d never forget, nor the sadistic pleasure he’d wrangled from her bruised, broken body. "I—ahh, but if we don’t get used to seeing you around, it’s…ummm…"

"Buffy—"

"At any rate, I’m not up here to get you downstairs. I’ve decided to call together a conference."

Zack arched a brow. "A conference?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of conference?"

"The kind you attend."

"Buff—"

"Kelly and Spike are waiting in our room."

Zack’s eyes widened. "Spike and Kelly? Yeah, this has all the makings of a fantastic idea."

She shrugged. "Whine all you want, this thing’s gonna happen."

"I can’t. I…looking at you is hard enough. Talking to Spike is like eating nails. And Kelly…we’re talking torture."

Buffy nodded darkly. "Well, as it turns out, I know a thing or two about torture." She might as well have kneed him in the gut for the pain that flashed across his face, but she ignored it. Instead, she swallowed and said, "This conference is happening, and you’re not gonna complain. If nothing else, you owe me. A lot."

That Zack couldn’t argue with. He nodded mutely.

"Be at my room in five minutes, or I’m gonna send Faith in here to haul you in."

His hands came up. "I’ll be there. I’ll be there."

*~*~*

Five and a half minutes later, Buffy had no idea where to begin.

"Well," she said, clasping her hands together, "I guess none of you know why I called you here."

Spike, Kelly, and Zack just blinked at her dumbly. They sat scattered throughout the room; Spike on the bed, Kelly beside the dresser, and Zack in the far back corner as though hoping everyone would simply forget his presence. Kelly hadn’t managed looking at him once—not fully, at least. She kept tossing him sideways glances and crossing and uncrossing her arms.

Spike aimed a reassuring smile in Buffy’s direction. "I’m sure you’re gonna enlighten us, pet."

"Well…yeah. I just…" Buffy wet her lips. "This is very strange."

"It’s not about to get any less strange," Zack offered.

Kelly shuddered at his voice and crossed her arms again.

"Well, that’s really the reason why I wanted everyone here. Part of moving on is…well, moving on…and that entails some actual movement." Buffy frowned, unsure if even she could follow her reasoning. "I think we’ve kinda boxed ourselves into a corner, and I’m not sure about the rest of you, but I’m tired of just sitting around and waiting for things to get better."

Spike grinned. "That’d be where the moving comes in, yeah?"

"Glad you’re enjoying this, sweetie. Really."

"You’re cute when you’re flustered."

"You’re flirting with me?" Buffy asked. "Now?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"’Cause it’s so—"

"What? Normal?" Spike snickered and reached into his duster for his cigarettes. "Thought that was the point, kitten."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "All right," she said. "In lieu of the rest of you sitting on your hands—"

"Hey!" Kelly said.

Spike arched a brow.

Zack held up his hands. "I thought they might be evil."

"—I have made a few decisions for us."

"Right," Spike said, lighting up. "Could’ve figured that."

"What kind of decisions?" Kelly asked.

Buffy expelled a deep breath. "Well, for starters, we’re not going back to New York."

Zack frowned. "We’re not?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Do you want to go home after everything that’s happened?"

"Well…not necessarily, but all our stuff’s in New York."

Buffy waved a hand. "The furniture doesn’t matter."

"We gave Giles POA a long time ago," Kelly agreed softly. "In case anything happened. He can break the lease on the apartments and get whatever we need packed up and sent out."

Buffy nodded. "That’s pretty much what I figured."

"So we’re staying here in merry ole LA?" Spike questioned skeptically. "’Cause of all the warm, fuzzy memories we made?"

"We’re not staying here. I’ve already put the deposit down on two apartments in the North Park complex about six blocks from here." She paused. "They’re adjacent. Mine and Spike’s has two bedrooms, and the other has four. It’s a bit pricier but—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Zack said.

"Buffy," Kelly said, her voice strained. "I don’t think I can live in the same apartment as…him." She shuddered and uncrossed her arms, then jerked her shoulder and crossed them again. "Not like this."

Buffy didn’t miss the wounded look that flashed across Zack’s face. "Regardless, this is what’s happening?"

"Who died and made you boss?" Kelly snapped.

"A lot of people. Need we go through the list?"

Spike smirked but didn’t say anything.

"Look," Buffy continued, "this isn’t going to be easy. No one expects it to be. But for the sake of Rosie and William, not to mention our collective future as we look at spending eternity together, we have to try and make this work."

Kelly relaxed a bit, but the worry in her face didn’t fade. "I don’t know if I can do an eternity," she said, her voice breaking. "Buffy…this—"

"I know."

"Then how can you ask—"

"Because she can," Spike supplied, hazarding a glance in Kelly’s direction. "This won’t be a picnic for her, either, pidge. And I’m still trying to hold it in." He looked back to Buffy, admiration in his eyes. "You’re doing fine, love."

"I don’t want to ask Kelly to live with me right now," Zack said. "Not like this."

"You’re not," Buffy replied. "I am. And this is how it’s gonna be."

"That’s not fair."

"Tough." She shrugged. "You still owe me, Zack. I haven’t even started collecting."

He quieted at that, his eyes falling to the ground like a scolded puppy.

"As far as you two go," Buffy said, motioning between Zack and Kelly, "I’m not expecting miracles. None of us are. Hell, I’ll be honest, you two might not make it… Kelly might never be able to overlook what happened anymore than Zack can. But this isn’t a fight over finances or irreconcilable differences or anything like anything you’ve ever heard as a reason marriages end. It isn’t even over infidelity. Zack lost his soul. He didn’t want what happened anymore than Kelly did, and you two were happy before the shit hit the fan. For the sake of your children, and me and Spike, and especially yourselves, you need to see if this is something you get can get passed. If it’s not, it’s better we know sooner rather than later."

At that, Kelly uncrossed her arms again and peered over her shoulder in Zack’s direction for the first time. Their eyes connected briefly.

Buffy exhaled. "In the meantime, partially due a suggestion by Melody, I’ve set up an appointment for Zack to meet with Dr. Pinkie."

Spike snickered.

"Dr. Pinkie?" Zack echoed. "Is that a real doctor?"

"Yes. He’s a demon therapist with a sizable practice. I explained the nature of your condition—"

"What condition?"

"Vamp with a soul and daddy issues who is recovering from a brief, albeit devastating stint of being soulless."

"Oh. That condition."

"You’ll meet for his group therapy session three times a week and have a one-on-one session every other week. And he gets paid in chicken feet, so we better stock up." Buffy sighed hard. "That’s about it. What’s going to happen. Any objections, you can shove up your ass."

"How about a question?" Kelly asked.

"Shoot."

"Do you think we can make it?" She licked her lips, her eyes wide and imploring. "Me and Zack. You said we might not…do you think we can?"

Zack stepped forward eagerly.

"Yeah," Spike said. "Sure."

"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I think you will. It won’t be easy, but I think you will."

Her vote of confidence seemed to have a healing affect. At once, Kelly turned to look at Zack fully for the first time since he retained his soul. And despite the discomfort involved, she didn’t break away for a moment or two.

Yeah. It would take time. A lot of time.

There was nothing but the road ahead.

*~*~*

Willow’s eyes kept bouncing from the gold number on the brick building to the number she’d acquired through means of the magical underground. The number remained the same. 628 W. Greenwood.

Sam’s building.

A long breath hissed through her lips, an anxious rush shooting through her veins. It was one thing in theory or even over the phone, but the nerves on which she’d lived during the first phone call had diminished in every subsequent attempt to contact Sam. A part of her had known, despite hoping, that Josh would find a way to sabotage her every time.

But Josh couldn’t sabotage her now. He couldn’t prevent Sam from answering his door anymore than he could prevent the baby in Willow’s baby from being born. At once, Willow found herself confronted with a world of anxiety she’d shoved to the backburner. Sam stood on the other side of the door. She could feel it.

"Okay," she said, placing a hand over her stomach. She knew it was nerves and not the baby, but she couldn’t deny the rush of power she felt surge against her palm. "Here we go."

The walk up the steps seemed endless, almost as endless as the seconds elapsing between the knocks she gave and the rustle of footsteps echoing from inside. Willow drew in a deep breath. What should she say? Somehow, she figured, "Hi. Remember all the sex we had? Well, you’ll never guess what happened!" wouldn’t cut it.

How did you tell a man—particularly one of wealth, influence, and political potential—that the weekend-turned-insanity-riddled fling had resulted in a child? 

Particularly when said man’s best friend kept getting in the way.

"There’s no way Josh can get in the way this time."

The door opened. Josh stood on the other side.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, they just stared at each other.

"Willow."

"Josh."

"You’re in DC."

"So it would seem."

"You’re at Sam’s."

"Technically on his front step, but yes."

"You’re at Sam’s place in DC."

"These are things that are accurate."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, right now I’m talking to a jackass who has forced me to completely circumnavigate the modern convention of the telephone in order to relay an important and private message to the man whose mail comes to this address." Willow beamed a quick grin. "By the way, ‘Hi, Willow. Nice to see you again. How was your flight?’ are all suitable responses upon seeing someone whom one previously thought to be a continent away."

"Apparently a continent was not enough."

"Josh!"

"Listen! Sam is upstairs getting ready for a very important date. A date that, by the way, could shape his career in professional politics as well as ensure his future happiness. A date with a non-crazy, Judeo-Christian woman who is the example of what Americans want to see in their politicians."

"This is low, Josh."

"This is insane, Willow! You flew across the country for a fling!"

"Why I flew across the country is not and never will be any of your business."

"If it involves Sam it is my business."

"How intrusive of you."

"How insane of you!"

"Josh—"

"Josh?" A southern, feminine voice tickled the air, producing with it a young, attractive blonde woman dressed to the nines. Willow recognized her immediately. It was the Republican who had once upon a time, mopped the floor with Sam’s ass on Capital Beat. The two had had undeniable chemistry.

"Oh, hello," the woman said upon seeing Willow.

"Ainsley," Josh said, "this is—ahh, a friend from California. Donna’s friend. Donna sent her over here to give me a message."

Willow sighed. "That’s not—"

"Oh," Ainsley said. "Well, I’ll just go back to waiting for Sam. I swear he spends as much time on his hair as I do on mine." She smirked, but turned her friendly eyes to Willow once more. "It was nice to meet you."

Willow watched openmouthed as the blonde trailed away.

"Willow," Josh said softly. "You really need to let this go."

The energy she’d felt so richly had fallen to nothing. Willow placed a hand over her stomach. "All right," she said. "All right. But I swear, Josh Lyman, whatever happens from now is your fault."

It was an empty threat. She determined then that Sam would never know about the baby.

In fact, there was no reason for Sam to see her again.

*~*~*

Three days later…

"So."

"So."

Wright smirked, rounding the corner with an armful of takeout. "Rosalie gets the tuna."

Faith made a face. "Girl can have it as long as you brought my chilidog."

With an armful of baby, Cordelia strolled up to the check-in counter, perusing the selections Wright had brought home. On her left hand sat a glittering engagement band. The question had been popped the second after Buffy and Spike announced their plans for the future, those involving the apartment complex down the road and their decision to stick around long-term. The proposal had fallen slightly anti-climactic in the face of everything that had happened, but Cordelia couldn’t go three seconds without admiring the diamond on her finger.

"You have my Icee?"

"Strawberry-banana." Wright handed her the cup, stealing a kiss in the process.

"My hero." She glanced to Faith. "Take it Rosalie and Hunter are still the moving twins?"

"There wasn’t much to move, but I think he’s hittin’ her up for a quick patrol after."

"You’re joining them, right?"

Faith shrugged. "After I wolf down my chilidog."

"Ahem."

The voice was so recognizable, even gruffly, the lobby fell still upon it tickling the air. Slowly, all sets of eyes turned to the figure shadowing the doorway.

"Wes," Faith said.

Wright nodded. "Wesley."

"You’re back!" Cordelia shrieked happily. "I knew you couldn’t stay away."

Wesley looked better than he had the last time they exchanged words. He’d ostensibly had a shower, his hair was groomed and his whiskers looked a bit more manageable. There was something different in his eyes—a darkness with which Wright could relate but didn’t like all the same. Still, it didn’t matter the next second. Faith had approached the former watcher and delivered a powerful blow to his belly that sent the man howling to his knees.

"Well, there’s one way to greet an old friend," Cordelia muttered.

Faith ignored her. "Pull that shit on me again, old man, and I’ll shove your balls down your throat."

Wright cleared his throat. "Ummm…that looks—"

"Painful!" Wesley screeched. "But—ahh…"

"You don’t get to fuck with me like that," Faith snapped. "I don’t give a shit who you are."

"Jeez." Cordelia winced, covering baby Kelly’s eyes. "I don’t know if I want her subjected to this kind of violence so early."

"Faith…I’m sorry." Wesley coughed harshly and climbed woozily to his feet, his eyes watering. "I…ahhh…I was very upset."

"And you’re not now?"

"No, I still am. But I believe it’s better to—ahh—suffer your losses in the company of friends." He aimed half-wince, half-smile at Wright, who returned it in full.

"This is your home, Wes," Wright said. "Nothing could ever change that."

"Nothing," Cordelia echoed.

Faith kicked at the floor but didn’t say anything.

"Good," Wesley said, coughing again. "Good."

"One last shot," the slayer said. "One. You shit on me again, and it’s the end. I put my neck out for you."

"I know."

"I ain’t doin’ that again."

"I know." Wesley turned to his friends with a deceptively soft smile. "There truly is no place like home."


End file.
